


Live and Exclusive

by MiaaMaay



Series: Of Two Make One [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressions, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamwalking, Emotions and Feelings, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hank has an implant similar to an Android, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Gore, Sad Hank Anderson, deviancy exploration, mind sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaaMaay/pseuds/MiaaMaay
Summary: Connor wanted to introduce Hank to another feature of his implant, but it looked like the device had more to offer than should be possible. It was fascinating but Connor had to decide what he valued more – satisfying his own curiosity or cherishing Hank’s trust.





	1. Chapter 1

_ "Hank.” _

No answer.

_ "Hank!" _

_ "Hng…? What..." _ Hank mumbled, managing to sound sleepy even through their link.

He must’ve dozen off on the couch where he was switching through channels earlier when Connor had gone to take a shower. The dirt from gardening has been washed off by now but his current state of undress had given him an idea.

_ "Hank, close your eyes." _ he ordered him over the bond, closing his own eyes and preparing the feed for transmission.

_ "Why?" _

_ "Have you closed your eyes?" _

_ "Yeah, yeah, I have. Shut tight. What now?" _ Hank grumbled though Connor could feel his curiosity slither through. The Deviant smiled to himself, reveling in the hot water running over his skin.

_ "Watch." _

When he opened his eyes again, he pushed the live feed of what he was seeing through to Hank. He kept his gaze trained on the wall opposite from him with the creamy tiles fogged up from the steam as he waited for Hank’s reaction.

“What the fuck..!” Hank exclaimed however not through their link. Connor could barely hear him over the rushing sound of water and the closed door. The transmission was temporarily disrupted by Hank’s surprise; maybe he should have prepared his human first. Or maybe not.

_ "Keep your eyes closed, Hank…" _

_ "Yeah, yeah… Is that actually what you are seeing right now?" _

_ "Yes, it is." _ he answered amused. He let his gaze wander around the shower slash bathtub to get Hank accustomed to it. He looked up and focused on the metal rings that held the shower curtain, onwards to the small window to his left that was currently closed to keep the heat inside. He lifted his hands and watched droplets run from his fingertips down his palm and forearm.

_ "It’s like watching a movie in HD quality…" _ Hank commented impressed.  _ "What’s that blue number though? On the top right-hand corner?" _

_ “It is displayed on my HUD and shows the current water temperature." _ 113°F / 45°C it read, which was the most enjoyable and relaxing setting for him as he found.

_ "What the… I didn’t even know the boiler could heat it up that much…! Aren’t you burning up?" _ Hank’s emotions flickered from worry to curiosity over to pure confusion until they were back to worry again. It was interesting for the Deviant how they fluctuated contrary to his own. His were usually quite steady even if they took him by surprise sometimes.

_ "I am actually quite comfortable. My body temperature is higher in general compared to yours, it only feels normal to you because I regulate it. And I may have made some adjustments to your boiler." _

_ "Well, as long as I don’t burn myself the next time I take a shower we’re good." _

_ "It’s been like that for over three weeks now, so it does appear like you haven’t noticed anyway." _

He leaned backwards, pressing his back against the cold tiles and creating a stark contrast to the coziness of the hot water running down his bare body. He pushed the sensation through their link, sharing the marvelous experience.

_ "Sooo…." _ Hank began but let his voice ring out without continuing. The older man was emitting anticipation, and Connor had a feeling he knew for what.  _ "Is there anything else you wanna show me or do I only get to see the insides of the shower in great detail?" _

_ "Is there anything specific you want to see, Hank?" _ Connor asked innocently and the surge of Hank’s arousal flooding his system confirmed his suspicion.

_ "How about you let your gaze drop a bit lower…" _ Hank suggested, his thought portrayed in a husky voice.

Connor let his eyes follow the white joints of the tiles downwards until they landed on the edge of the bathtub where a single bottle of Hank’s all-in-one shampoo and shower gel was placed.

The Deviant didn’t know where it had come from, but he had developed a tendency of not strictly following Hank’s words even though he knew exactly what the older man had meant. It got a variety of responses out of his partner – sometimes he was amused and played along, other times he grew impatient rather fast. Now however it seemed like he was in the mood for the first.

_ "Lower, Connor…" _

So he let his eyes drop even lower. They landed on the drain where the water turned into a small vortex before it was being swallowed by it. He let his gaze linger a second and just before he sensed that Hank was about to complain, he continued his journey. He followed the stream upwards, his head hanging low and his chin almost touching his chest when he was finally able to see first his toes and then the rest of his bare body. The spray from the showerhead hit him on his neck and the water rushed over his shoulders, along his body and down his legs where it engulfed his feet before it rushed towards the drain. The older man hummed, clearly pleased.

_ "That’s it…" _

Connor lifted a hand and brushed his palm over his flat stomach, the water splashing over the new hindrance in thick drops.

_ "You have seen me naked only this morning…" _ Connor teased as he blinked some water out of his eyes.

_ "Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you naked  _ and wet  _ this morning." _

Connor couldn’t argue with that, though he didn’t really know what difference that made. He knew that Hank was attracted to his body and that certain elements were seen as erotic depending on the context. That’s why they were in this very situation. Still, the Deviant’s attraction worked differently – or rather, appearance didn’t matter all that much to him. When he saw Hank naked, he didn’t exclusively get aroused by the sight of his body but the trust Hank has in him. His partner could get quite self-conscious sometimes, especially when he compared himself with Connor’s rather athletic physique. On the other hand, humans tend to forget a lot about themselves and their surroundings at the prospects of intercourse...

_ "Connor? ‘You spacing out on me?" _

The Deviant snapped back to attention, his mind having drifted off to terrain he might have to explore another time.

_ "I’m sorry. I got distracted." _

_ "By what?" _

_ "Picturing you naked." _

Hank made a choked-out noise and the Android was hit with another wave of arousal laced with slight embarrassment – almost as expected.

_ "Would you like to keep on watching?" _

_ "Depends." _ Hank replied casually. There were small spikes being pushed through their bond; like electric shocks that made his pump regulator work a bit faster. He knew of course what it was. Hank was touching himself.  _ "What’s the program?" _

_ "I was thinking about trying out something new." _ Connor answered, leaning his head to the side as he followed his hand with his gaze as it slid just a bit lower, following his dusted happy trail until the tips of his little and ring finger barely brushed the root of his cock.  _ "You remember when I’ve told you that I have never touched myself? Not while I have been alone?" _

_ Yeah… I was wondering about that." _ Hank croaked.

_ “It had never crossed my mind, if I am being honest. Why would I want to touch myself when you weren’t there? I love your touch, I love your mouth on mine, the slight burn from your beard on my skin. It gets me excited how you look at me.” _

_“Fucking hell, Connor…”_ Hank breathed heavily.

_ “But it got me curious… “  _ The Deviant took his still flaccid cock in his hand, massaging his sensitive member carefully. His sensors picked up the stimulation but Connor kept it from going erect just yet. He didn’t blink, deactivating the automated function temporarily – he wanted Hank to see it all.

_ “You are touching yourself right now.” _ Connor stated, a fact rather than a question. Another wave of lust flooded his senses, but Hank didn’t reply to that.  _ “Does the simple fact that I am naked make you aroused?” _

He started stroking his cock slowly, letting his thumb run over the sensitive tip before gliding down again. The water helped to ease the friction, letting his palm glide smoothly over his synthetic flesh, but it didn’t feel the same as when Hank’s calloused hand was curled around it.

_ “No…” _ Hank growled huskily.  _ “Not solely. Fuck, it certainly helps, but no. It’s…” _ he paused and Connor anticipated how he would continue.  _ “It’s you showing me this. And when you talk like – like you are starring in a goddamn porn video and I don’t know even know if you are aware of that…” _

Connor pursed his lips in thought. He may have consulted the Internet on sex-related topics though he hadn’t actively adopted anything from them as of recently, especially not any patterns of speech. He had contemplated to try out ‘dirty talk’ but hadn’t found the right time yet.

_ “How about you start touching yourself?” _ Hank suggested.

_ “But I am…” _ Connor answered confused. He was still stroking his cock but didn’t really think that getting erect would make a difference. It just wasn’t the same as when Hank touched him, slowly coming to the conclusion that masturbation maybe wasn’t his thing. His own hand simply didn’t have the same appeal.

_ “You know you can touch more than your dick. What’s the color of your LED?” _

A quick request to one of his variables showed him its current state.

_ “Blue.” _

_ “Well, then you’re doing something wrong.” _

Connor didn’t like doing  _ anything _ wrong, especially not something that was supposed to be as easy as masturbating. He let go of his still flaccid member and lifted his head to look back at the wall with a frown. Hank snorted, having probably caught onto Connor’s displeasure.

_ “Cut this live video whatever and close your eyes.” _

_ “But we haven’t even gotten to the point where you show me your end!” _ Connor lamented. He had had a plan of how this was supposed to go, though he hadn’t taken into account that he was just not able to pleasure himself without Hank.

_ “We can do that another time. I think it’s my turn to teach you something for once.” _

_ “You’ve taught me quite a lot.” _

_ “Yeah, how to roll your eyes and flip the bird.”  _ And Connor  _ still  _ didn’t know what a bird had to do with an offensive gesture. Just one of many things he had to look up.  _ “No, but seriously. Close your eyes. Do you know what you’re lacking?” _

Connor sighed to himself but relented. He cut the video feed and closed his eyes, cranking his head back until the stream of water also washed over his head and face. Surprisingly enough, Connor could still feel Hank pleasuring himself, though it wasn’t as intense anymore – only a soft thrum of warmth rolling through their bond.

_ “What do I lack, Hank?” _

_ “Imagination.” _

_ “What does that have to do with anything?” _

_ “It has  _ everything  _ to do with it.”  _ Hank answered amused.  _ “You don’t touch yourself without thinking of  _ something _. I’ve heard some can even get off without touching themselves at all.” _

The Android let the older man’s words roll around his mind. He didn’t even know where to start. What was he supposed to think of? Obviously something sex-related.

_ “Like what?” _

_ “Well, depends on the person, I guess. You could think about our last time if that gets you going. You could touch yourself and imagine it is me touching you or you could make up whole other scenarios with stuff you wanna try out.” _

Connor thought about it. It made sense and coincided with what humans tend to do when they pleasure themselves. That’s why pornography was so widely spread. He could load and replay their previous acts of intercourse from foreplay to climax. But how was he to ‘make up’ scenarios that hadn’t happened yet? He needed references to work with first.

_ “What are you thinking of when you masturbate?” _

_ “Well uhm…” _ Hank sounded and felt uneasy. The Deviant was about to revoke his question but Hank got to it first.  _ “You know when you’ve asked me if I’d thought about fucking you in the office?”  _ Of course he did.

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Yeah… that.” _

_ “You would want to do that? We could get fired!”  _ Connor asked perplexed. Would Hank really want to risk their jobs for simple pleasure?

_ “No! I mean, yeah, of course we would get bloody fired if we get caught, but that’s the point!”  _ Connor had no clue what he was talking about.  _ “Of course we can’t and never should do that, but I  _ imagine  _ doing it when I need some good material.” _

Connor was even more confused but intrigued where he was still standing under the steady stream of hot water, though he was slowly getting an idea of what Hank might be getting at.

_ “Tell me. Where would we even begin? There’s always someone at the office, even at night or on weekends.” _

_ “If we’re being realistic. But that’s where the imagination comes into play. You could make up any stupid excuse why no-one is there. I’d like to think it’s around New Year’s Eve, everyone's out drinking or on patrol … and that’s why the office is vacated.” _

_ “And we’re at the office because…?” _

_ “You couldn’t stop with the fucking paper work, like always.” _ Hank snorted.  _ “You would be like ‘There’s still so much to do, Hank’” _ he thought in a high-pitched voice and Connor got the feeling that he was trying to imitate his voice but failed miserably.  _ “‘If we get this done we don’t have to worry about it when we get back after the holidays, Hank’.” _

He was drowned with endearment and amusement combined with a hint of annoyance. But there was more. Images flashed before his inner eye which were coming through their link, however Connor doubted that Hank was aware of what he was doing. The images were gone too quickly for the Deviant to see what they were about until a scene suddenly opened, its appearance similar to a live feed but Connor guessed that this was what Hank was currently imagining. He was in the perspective of Hank, posed at his usual spot at the Lieutenant’s desk and he could see himself sitting across from Hank at his own desk, squinting at the monitor in front of him. The surroundings were partly blurred and details mixed or simply unlike it was in reality, like the missing plant that usually had its place on top of the middle counter which also curiously enough was missing several drawers. The office was unusually dark – all the ceiling lights were turned off and the only sources were the retro looking table lamp on Hank’s desk and the light coming from the entrance to the office, creating a stark contrast of shadows. Connor could see through the large windows that it was dark outside, telling him that it was probably quite late in the evening.

Connor hadn’t even known that this was possible. Sharing what they were currently seeing yes, but Hank being able to show him what he was  _ imagining _ , picturing in his  _ own mind _ …There hadn’t been anything of it in the description of the transmitter, nor had the doctor told him about it. It wasn’t mentioned as a possible side-effect. So it shouldn’t have been possible. But it was. And he wondered if he would stay a passive viewer or if he could even add or alter the vision.

_ “You can be a real workaholic sometimes but this time… well, let’s say you’ve given us the  _ opportunity _. Can you imagine us being at the office, after hours, no-one is there? You, sitting at your desk, tipping away on your keyboard, doing goddamn reports of all things and me waiting at my own desk ready to go?” _

_ “Yes.” _

Connor didn’t need to imagine it as he had to only watch, but Hank didn’t have to know that until he had explored the perimeter. It was easy to switch views and place himself into his own position at his desk. He stopped typing and focused on the monitor in front of him. It was showing his standard text program and half a page of lines, though the words were blurred and undistinguishable; maybe those were details Hank’s brain couldn’t or didn’t care to provide. Connor thought back to the last report he had written this Friday and when he blinked, the page was suddenly filled with the exact content of his latest report.  _ Interesting _ . Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Hank getting up from his desk and walk around it until he was standing beside Connor with his arms crossed, squinting at his report.

_ “I would get impatient and go over to your side but you wouldn’t let yourself get distracted, now would ya?” _

_ “Probably not, no…” _

It was difficult for the Deviant to see their situation as a completely normal day at the office, to try and think of how he would react. He pushed the sound of the water to the background, the sensation of it washing all over his body. The smell of the hot, humid air around him. Instead, he focused on being at the office. Their surroundings became clearer, the blurred areas sharp as he filled those parts from his of memory. The smell of old coffee and printer ink tickled his nose.

Hank chuckled, the low rumble even audible in his thoughts.

_ “Figures. Well, then I would try and get your attention, flick your ear or make use of your tactile upgrade and pinch you in the arm. What would you do?” _

The Hank in their shared vision did exactly that – he flicked his finger at his ear but Connor could easily blend it out and instead pretended to save the report. When he was pinched in the arm though, he flinched because he  _ felt _ it. Not only in their shared vision, but also where he was standing under the shower. It surprised him that much that his eyes flew open and he threw his head around towards the shower curtain, fully expecting Hank to stand there pinching his arm. But he wasn’t. It had felt  _ so real _ but a quick scan showed that his sensors at the area where he had supposedly been touched hadn’t been triggered other than by the hot water. He replayed the scene in his mind, analyzing, careful not to let anything bleed over to Hank. After several replays, he was positive that it hadn’t been his own but rather Hank imagining the sensation  _ for him _ . Kind of how Connor perceived Hank’s emotions – similar, but not completely the same.

_ “Connor?” _

The Deviant eyed the curtain skeptically a second longer before he relaxed back against the steady stream and closed his eyes again only to be disappointed that the scene was gone. Hank must’ve caught onto his lack of participation.

_ “Yes. Sorry, Hank I-” _

_ “Are you alright? It felt like you were...spooked? By something?” he asked unsure. _

_ “Yes, that… It’s just new for me. I got distracted.” _

_ “You know, if this just isn’t something for you-” _

_ “No – that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. You have asked me what I would be doing. You have pinched me in the arm. Teasing is not nice, Hank…”  _ he scolded while conveying his eagerness to continue through their bond.  _ “I… I think I would swat your hand away.” _ he finished awkwardly.

Hank huffed a laugh and his weariness dissipated and instead it felt like Connor was wrapped in warm, soft cotton. Suddenly they were back at the office, at the same position where they had stopped. So the Deviant did just what he had announced and swatted Hank’s hand away, turning around in his office chair to look at the Lieutenant with a scowl. This Hank was fast though and grabbed him by his wrist in the blink of an eye, keeping his arm immobilized.

_ “I wouldn’t tolerate such behavior, Connor. So I would lean over and hit that power button of your PC and announce that work is over for good.” _

The monitor turned black from Hank simply pushing the button once even though realistically it should have taken at least five seconds of continuingly pressing it before the system would shut down. It appeared that Hank hadn’t wanted to wait that long though. What would he do though?

_ “I would calmly watch you, curious to what you would do next.” _

_ “Of course you would. But would you let me slip off your tie and start undressing you in the middle of the office? Daring you to stop me?” _

In Hank’s fantasy, the older man placed his free hand on the Deviant’s shoulder and pushed, rolling him backwards until the backrest of his chair hit one side of his L-shaped desk with a dull  _ thump _ . Hank briefly glanced down his body before they locked eyes again. He lowered Connor’s still trapped hand, pressing it onto the armrest of his chair before his other hand came up, hooking his finger behind the knot of his tie and tugged until it simply slid off.

_ “I wouldn’t resist...” _

_ “Why not? You know it’s a stupid idea.” _

_ “Yes, but…” _

_ “But what?” _

In their shared daydream Connor’s eyes flickered briefly towards the entrance where presumably anyone could come through at any moment before they landed back on Hank who was now unbuttoning his dress shirt, starting from the top. He did it slowly and didn’t have to look down even once as each button slid smoothly and without resistance through their holes, revealing more and more of his skin.

There was something  _ thrumming  _ inside of him; his system was trying to cope with the mixed signals he was receiving. Everything was fine where he was standing under the shower, safely at home. But there in the office, even though he logically knew that it wasn’t real, he felt a  _ thrill _ at the prospect of engaging in something as dangerous and  _ forbidden _ and he couldn’t decide if it was coming from him or Hank.

Instead of answering, he grabbed Hank by his collar with his free hand and pulled him down, crushing their lips together. The surprise and shock flooding their link at the motion he hadn’t described beforehand was to be expected and Connor kept their shared fantasy from crumbling as Hank briefly lost his concentration. The sensation from Hanks lips on his and his beard against his skin was solely coming from his own memory but not as satisfying as when they’d kiss for real.

_ “Can you- are you inside my head?!” _

_ “Yes, I’m there with you. I will explain it later. What will you do, Hank? Will you continue?” _

_ “Fuck….”  _ It took Hank a second but Connor could already tell that his interest hadn’t disappeared.  _ “This is weird as fuck but with that invitation? Of fucking course I will! Drag your ass out that stupid chair and get you on that desk of yours...” _

Hank leaned into the kiss, tackling the Deviant’s tongue with his own before he grabbed him by his arms and pulled him up only to press him against the side of his desk that was adjacent to Hank’s and kicked the chair out of the way with his foot. Hanks voice had turned into a low rumble, making the thirium pump just that bit faster through his artificial veins.

_ “I feel like I have to remind you that this is the part where you start touching yourself.” _

_ “Where?” _

_ “Just let your hands follow mine.” _

Hank broke the kiss to look at him, his breath already labored. His hands came up to roam over the Android’s chest, gliding under his open shirt and over his sides. Past events with similar sequences provided him with how it feels like to have rough, calloused hands do exactly that and he sucked in a breath, at the office as well as where he stood under the shower. There in the bathroom he lifted his hands and placed them on his sides before sliding them down, mirroring the older man’s caress as best as he could. The friction wasn’t the same, the water lessening the effect but Connor could see and feel the appeal.

_ “What’s the color of your light?” _

_ “Yellow.” _

_ “Not quite there then… maybe we need to amp it up some more. Gonna ravish that pretty mouth of yours, make sure that no part of you is left untouched.” _ he rumbled lowly.

The Hank at the office lifted him enough so he was sitting on the edge of his desk, spreading his legs and pulling him in-between to keep the older man as close as possible. They were back at kissing, a heated battle with clawing hands and with their tongues winding around each other’s. Connor bit his lip to get at least some feedback in reality but it wasn’t enough, he needed more, and he voiced just that.

_ “Take yourself in hand, Connor, can you do this for me?” _

_ “Yes…” _

His hand whipped down and took he himself in hand, surprised to find his cock erect but dismissed the thought in favor of stroking himself in a steady rhythm. It wasn’t in sync with what they were doing in their shared experience but it felt  _ good _ . Better than his first try. His other hand pinched his hard nipple, causing him to inhale sharply at the sensitiveness of it.

_ “That’s it, boy, you’re getting there… I can feel it. ‘Can feel you touching yourself, enjoying yourself…” _

In their fantasy, Hank all but ripped the Deviant’s pants open and pulled his shirt out, tearing it apart so that the two remaining buttons that had been hidden by his jeans came undone and shot away like projectiles; the sound of them hitting the floor somewhere loud in the otherwise quiet office. It didn’t take long to paw Hank’s belt and fly open; being in control of their surroundings helped with the small and sometimes tedious tasks like getting the zipper down without it getting stuck somehow. He freed the other man’s member, taking it in hand in a matching rhythm as he had set for himself under the shower. Connor swallowed the resulting moan with another heated kiss before he added one of his own as Hank pulled his own cock from their confines. Connor leaned back and Hank followed, pressing the Android flat onto the desk as he ground down hard, their cocks rubbing together in that delicious friction the Deviant wished he would be able to feel for real in this very moment. His lean legs wound themselves around the Lieutenant’s hips, giving him the perfect leverage to roll his hips up as he all but buried his hands into the long, silver strands of Hank’s hair. They groaned in union, both in their fantasy and through their bond.

_ “But there’s more, isn’t there, Hank…? You don’t simply want to have sex with me. There is a reason we’re in this very specific setting.”  _ he panted, somehow breathless solely from those images.

_ “What do you mean?”  _ he asked though the sudden rush of adrenaline coming from him betrayed the older man long before he’d put that thought through.

Connor broke the kiss and looked up at Hank, raising a brow and tilting his head to the side just as a loud  _ beep _ and the sound of the transparent double doors of the security gate sliding open sounded from the entrance, indicating that  _ someone was coming _ . Hank’s eyes grew wide as he stared down at in disbelieve. Connor blindly stretched out his arm above him, reaching for the small cord of Hank’s table lamp while keeping their eyes locked and with a small tug and a soft click diminished the only light source close by, engulfing them in shadows just as no other than Captain Jeffrey Fowler entered the office.

_ “Of-fucking-course it’s gotta be Jeffrey!” _

_ “You want the thrill, you want the excitement, don’t you, Hank? He won’t even hear me taking one breath, but what about you?” _

_ “Fuck, Connor! What’s your color?” _

_ “Red.” _

_ “Fuck!” _

The open area resonated the tiniest sounds, making the steps of the Captain sound loud and menacing. Connor stopped breathing completely, simply deactivating the function for the time being and not moving an inch while he kept his eyes trained on Hank. He could barely see him; the diffuse light from the entrance created a silhouette of the slightly taller man on top of him. Still, the fluctuating emotions rushing through their bond told him all he needed to interpret possible expressions. It circled between disbelieve, excitement, bafflement and lastly lust and arousal so strong Connor had to concentrate to keep from moaning at the intensity.

They were partly hidden behind the office equipment; the monitor to Connor’s left now acting as their cover but the small space between the screen and tabletop gave him enough room to see. He watched the Captain stride through the sort of hallway near the wall at the opposite side of the large room, past the desks until he turned left and walked straight towards them with a whistle on his lips. Hank was tense above him, breathing through his mouth in controlled in- and exhales as he also had his eyes trained on the dark-skinned man.

Fowler came closer and closer, the steps getting even louder and Hank had the sense to cover his LED with his hand. It was a good idea, though the execution lacked a certain finesse and caused their loose belts to clink loudly at the movement. The Captain stopped in his track, the whistling gone as he squinted into the darkness. The Lieutenant held his breath. Seconds ticked by, neither of them daring to move with the silence thick between them. Connor thought he could even hear Hank’s rapidly beating heart and worried that maybe captain Fowler could also, but then the man simply shook his head to himself and continued on his way. He climbed the few steps that would lead him into the glass cube near the center of the room that acted as his office and closed the transparent door behind him. Hank’s breath was hot against his cheek as he finally let it out and hung his head in relief, though it didn’t last long.  

Another light came on, this time from the Captain’s office itself. It wasn’t bright, the table lamp just enough to give the man the means to rummage around in the drawers of his desk but with the equally transparent front of the cube and the unfortunate position of Hank’s and therefore Connor’s workspace being some of the closest to his office, it was enough to be exposed. Fowler would only have to look up and in their direction to be able to them spot.

_ “You little bastard... You have this all planned! Do you want us getting caught? Would that turn you on even more than you are right now?”  _ Hank all but growled, but he didn’t give the Deviant a chance to answer.  _ “But two can play this game. I want you to do what I do with my hands and I mean  _ to a T _ , Connor. And  _ no cheating _.” _

Connor had little time to react before Hank leaned back and lifted his hips enough to pull his jeans and briefs over his ass just enough so one of his hands could grab his ass cheek while the other enclosed his still hard member between them.

He gasped in surprise but did just that where he was standing under the hot spray of water; the one hand that was already tugging at his member stayed but his other hand roamed behind and squeezed  _ tight _ . Hank set a punishing pace, his hand all but blurred over Connor’s cock and Connor had a hard time to keep up with it. But the older man wasn’t done just yet. He circled his arm around one of the Deviant’s legs and soon deft fingers were probing on the cleft of his ass. The Android was already leaking, gushing out lubricant that all but dripped from his entrance and onto the floor, creating a small puddle between Hank’s feet. It wouldn’t normally be this excessive but it looked like Hank wanted him extra wet and added this particular detail. It certainly helped with the two thick digits that were suddenly pushed into him to the knuckles. He dug his finger in the man’s shoulders above him and bit his lip  _ hard _ at the sudden intrusion to keep the yelp that would certainly alert the Captain inside.

“ _ Hank! _ ”

_ “That’s it, but we’re not done yet…! _ ” Hank panted.

He didn’t give the Deviant time to adjust as he moved his fingers in and out to the same pace his other hand was stroking his sensitive erection. The squelching sound was  _ obscene  _ and he wondered how Fowler didn’t notice them by that alone. His whole body was tense and his thighs were quivering from the onslaught of sensation, painting it immensely difficult to keep any sounds from escaping.

“ _ Hank..! Please- it’s too much! _ ”

But instead of slowing down, Hank added  _ another finger _ , spreading the tight ring of synthetic muscles as the digits pistoned into him. Every time they’d be buried all the way, Hank would crook them  _ just so _ to brush over the sensitive spot of bundled wires and neuronal receptors that made Connor’s toes curl. The Deviant tried to push himself away from the sensory overload but Hank was quick to react, freeing his hand from the Deviant’s erection to pin him to the desk by his hips, never even halting in his penetration for a second.

“ _ No escaping, Connor, or do you think you can’t keep quiet? _ ” the rough voice teased through their bond.

Small whimpers started to escape his mouth, not able to hold them back any longer and Hank simply watched him coming undone.

“ _ Fowler has already glanced in our direction once or twice and your pretty little noises are getting louder by the second. _ ”

Hank was relentless, how was he supposed to keep them in?

Captain Fowler seemed to have found what he was looking for though and finally extinguished the light of his office and left it with another melodious whistle.

_ “Oh, so you’re making him leave now, ain’t ya? Are you close? Can’t hold back when you are about to come, huh?” _

Oh, how close he was. That the other man didn’t hear the nasty sounds, let alone what was coming from Hank simply fingering him to oblivion, was a miracle. Still, the seconds felt like minutes as the footsteps of captain Fowler leisurely echoed towards the entrance and the Deviant wondered if it would be really that bad to lose their jobs just to be able to release the pressure and  _ let go _ . He couldn’t hold on much longer and he begged for Fowler to simply hurry up but it seemed that Hank had taken over and made the other man waltz out the office as if he had all the time in the world. And maybe he had, but Connor didn’t. It felt like a blessing when the beeping noise from the security gate rung through the room and that was all he needed.

Connor came with half a scream, half a moan – so intense their shared fantasy flickered and crumbled in on itself. His cock was vibrating as it spilled but the hot water was quick to wash the evidence away. Hank was close behind, the waves of pleasure and the resulting hormone flush flooding the Deviant’s system and he welcomed it wholly. His fingers slipped out of him with ease and his body felt kind of numb; like he was floating, and his mind was hazy. It was hard to find a clear thought though he wasn’t sure if it was necessary, so he let it be. His legs were shaky and felt weak. He would probably find it rather fascinating if he could find the energy to care. As it was now, he only wanted to lay down and enjoy the fuzzy feeling, the buzzing of his wires through his body.

Connor leaned forward and out of the stream, turning off the water before clearing his face and hair of the excess water with his hands. He lazily blinked his eyes open, a few, small droplets clung stubbornly on his lashes. He was still panting slightly as he pushed the shower curtain aside and stepped out the tub. The bathroom was fogged up; he could barely see the other end of the already rather small room. His inner clock told him that he had just spend an hour showering. But he didn’t care, nothing seemed to really matter at this moment other than that he got to where he wanted to be the most at this moment. He grabbed a towel and rudimentary dried off his hair and body before putting on the fresh pair of boxers, baggies and one of Hank’s old hoodies he’d laid out in advance before shuffling out the bathroom. The much cooler air outside the bathroom hit him like a wall and he set a reminder for later to open the bathroom window to prevent mold formation. Now though, he had other plans.

He dragged his feet that felt heavy as lead towards the living room where he could hear but not see Hank shuffling around. The late afternoon sun illuminated the room in a soft orange, making it seem warm and welcoming. Sumo was snoring softly in front the small coffee table and Hank was lying on the old couch, pulling his shirt down as he tried to clean a wet spot on it with a tissue while grumbling under his breath. Some sports game was playing on the old TV, but the sound was muted.

The Deviant shuffled around the couch, pushing Hank’s hands out the way before simply flopping down on top the other man. Hank grunted as the weight hit him but the low rumble of a laugh coming from his throat and vibrating through his warm, soft body Connor was currently perched on told him that he probably didn’t mind. Connor sighed contently and closed his eyes as he simply went limp, all body tension completely slipping out of him. His head was cushioned by Hank’s chest and strong arms came up and around his back and he couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be.

“‘You on your hormone-high again?” Hank chuckled as he stroked over his back, but Connor couldn’t even find the energy to answer so he simply hummed in reply. He briefly wondered if he could simulate this state outside its usual occurrence of their combined orgasms but dismissed it for later. He didn’t want to think about  _ anything _ at this very moment and he sensed that Hank found his current behavior rather funny if not even endearing.

The older man placed a sweet kiss on his still damp hair that let his body thrum with warmth. “This was probably the weirdest shit I’ve ever done  _ in my life _ . I didn’t even know that this was even possible! You should have probably mentioned that weird-mind-fucking was a thing and I wouldn’t have waited months before agreeing.”

Connor hadn’t known either and he would tell Hank that this was probably something that shouldn’t be possible in the first place and that they should consult the doctor or manufacturer about it but his body was still buzzing with the feedback coming from Hank that he hoped the man would forgive him for his lack of participation in this discussion. At any other time he would’ve been eager to dive into the topic, but not now.

Hank huffed another laugh, his whole body shaking with it.

“Alright, seems like I’ve finally found a way to shut you up for good. Fine, just sleep it out or whatever.” he mumbled affectionately, before unmuting the TV and running a hand through Connor’s brown hair and massaging his neck.

This was the most comfortable the Deviant had ever been and he wished for the time to simply stop, for this moment to never end. He couldn’t recall a time that came even close to this. Just them, in their home, as close as physically possible. And so he put his effort into soaking it all up, letting the feeling swallow him fully as the sound from the TV became muffled and all he could hear was the rhythmic drum of the heartbeat from the man underneath him.

\---

He didn’t know how he came here, nor did he know where exactly  _ here _ was. He couldn’t recall where he had been before or what he had been doing. His system wasn’t providing him with any information whatsoever.

He was standing in a park, the sun high in the sky. There weren’t many people around, some lying on blankets on the large patches of grass and there was the occasional hobby jogger here and there, running up and down paved pathways through the green scenery. All in all, he would deem it a beautiful day if it weren’t for the fact that nothing looked even remotely familiar to him.

“You should try this.”

Connor’s head whipped around. Hank was sitting on one of the park benches behind him, casually eating ice-cream while watching the people in the distance. What was he doing here? Were they kidnapped? Did he have a blackout?

“What is going on, Hank? Where are we?”

The older man didn’t seem as put off as Connor felt. In fact, he looked perfectly at peace, leaned back and licking at his ice cone in his hand.

“Bella Isle Park. No- wait.  _ Belle _ Isle Park. It’s got the best ice cream ever. You should  _ really _ try it.” he replied before he took another lick, some of the cream getting stuck in the thick hair of his beard around his mouth.

“How did we get here?” Connor inquired, taking another look around.

The trees, especially the ones in the distance, appeared to shift and move unnaturally and it was confusing and disorienting to watch. There was no wind, not even a soft breeze, but the sound of rustling leaves was loud and clear.

“We drove of course, you idiot. I wouldn’t come here by foot.”

“Hank, I really don’t remember us getting here.” Warily he turned back to Hank only to find that the ice cream had turned into a hot dog stuffed with loads and loads of mustard, ketchup and fried onions.

“Well I don’t either but I’m glad we are. You can’t taste, right? ‘ts a shame, really. All the good things I’d show you. There's this burger joint, really small, just a few blocks away. Nothing fancy, just the best cheese and bacon barbecue burger you could imagine. But a hot dog is still a hot dog and I can’t say no to that.” And with that he simply stuffed his mouth full of the sausage bread, some of the sauce and onions slipping off and onto the ground.

This was disconcerting. It almost looked like they were in another fantasy. But even then, he should be able to access his memory or at least be aware of their surroundings in the real world. But he couldn’t. It was like he was trapped; he had no control.

“What is the last thing you remember before getting to this park?” the Deviant asked carefully.

Connor stepped closer to Hank, trying to hold the man’s attention for more than a second. Blue orbs blinked up at him with raised brows before he seemed to think about his question.

“Dunno. Skipping work, probably. It’s Tuesday, ain’t it? I really don’t want to go there… “ he groused, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. Hank licked his lips and cleared part of his beard of excessive sauce before taking another bite of his meal.

From one moment to the other, Connor was seated beside Hank without his consent, though the park bench as it turned out had morphed into a pair of comfortable, brown leather armchairs and the park around them had turned into a stadium with hundreds of people around them seated on cheap plastic chairs on the stands, cheering for one of the baseball teams currently playing on the field. There were flags and oversized foam hands and confetti flying around. Large screens showed the game currently going on on the field and only then did Connor notice that the players were no professionals but rather kids around the age of five or six with helmets for too big for their heads. The older man didn’t seem fazed though and instead watched the game with mild interest as he chewed on yet another form of fast-food – this time a burger practically  _ oozing _ with fat.

How was this possible? The twist of reality, some details blurred and incomplete where others were pristine and clear however mixed up.

“Hank, is this a dream? Are you asleep right now?” Connor asked urgently as he had to shout his words over the noise of the crowd around them. A dream would explain the rapidly changing scenarios and Hank seemingly unaware of what was going on but it wouldn’t explain why  _ he _ was here or why he had no control over any of this or outside this place.

However, Hank only squinted at him suspiciously.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“Haven’t we been in a park just a minute ago? How did we get here, Hank? Didn’t you just eat a hot dog? Why are there kids playing on the field and why are we the only ones sitting in armchairs at a stadium nonetheless?”

The Deviant hoped that pointing out the inconsistencies would get the man onto realizing that something wasn’t quite right but Hank didn’t seem too eager to cooperate and instead growled in annoyance.

“For fucks sake, Connor, can’t you just enjoy things for once without you asking me ten-questions-why!”

He turned his gaze away from the Android beside him before taking another huge bite from his burger in spite. Connor frowned at Hank though he supposed Hank also wasn’t in control of what was going on. If it really was a dream he was practically sitting beside the older man’s subconsciousness, the pure and unfiltered self of the man that also seemed to be kind of a grump. As he turned his gaze back to the field, he noticed that large, oversized trees had been added to the field with benches just beside the running lanes. Did Hank just add them at the reminder of the park? The Deviant would’ve been fascinated if it weren’t for the anxious itch that he had no real influence of what was going on. There was another thing he could try though, a way to possibly wake his partner up and separate their minds. Connor stood up and turned to Hank who actively tried to ignore him.

“I’m sorry Lieutenant, but I hope you will forgive me.”

Connor grabbed Hank by his collar and pulled him up with no effort whatsoever before whirling him around and pushing him backwards towards the stairs.

“What? What the fuck is wrong with you! Let me go!” Hank protested and tried to pry his arm away from him but even his subconsciousness had accepted that Connor was simply way stronger than him. When they got to the small plateau of the stairs, Hank still struggling to get free, Connor had already precluded the possibility of major injuries in case it went wrong with what he was about to do.

“I need you to wake up.”

Hank blinked incredulously at him before it seemed to dawn on him what the Deviant was about to do, but by then it was already to late. With a light push, Hank fell backwards, a hand trying to find hold on the outstretched arm of the Android but he wasn’t quick enough. The whole world around them seemed to tilt and bend, so surreal Connor almost thought Hank’s device had encountered a fatal error. Hank’s shocked expression stared at him as he fell down the stairs but just before his back would hit the first pair of steps, everything went black.

Connor was jerked roughly and when his eyes flew open, he was back at their house, back on their couch with the man grumbling something unintelligible above him. The room was dark, the only light coming from the TV still running on low volume, showing some sort of wildlife documentary. He felt the man move underneath him, so he lifted himself to look at him. As suspected, Hank appeared to just have woken up, rubbing his hands over his face grumpily. His system told him that two hours had passed since he’d laid down. Two hours of unregistered time. There were no logs, no anomalies detected. Like nothing had happened and he had just … been asleep. Sharing a dream with Hank.

A loud rumbling noise interrupted him mid-thought. He looked down at the source of the older man’s slightly pronounced belly just as Hank let out another groan.

“I’m fucking starving...” he rasped, his voice rough from sleep.

Well, that might explain why food had made a major appearance in his dream. And now that he thought about it, the baseball field could’ve been related to the sport show Hank had watched earlier. It was usual for humans to process events and details of the day through dreams but it was fascinating to live through them himself. Android’s don’t require sleep nor do they have the ability to dream since they don’t – or shouldn’t, depending on how you saw their developing deviancy – have a subconsciousness.

Connor sat back and gave Hank the room to sit up but he still felt… weird about all this, for a lack of words.

“Have you noticed anything strange…?” the Deviant asked, watching Hank brush his hair back just for the silvery strands to flop back into his face and only blinked at the Android with tired eyes.

“Wha…?”

“What do you remember about your dream?”

Hank grunted.

“I don’ even ‘member having dreamt at all…” he all but slurred, swallowing some vocals as he stood up slowly with a long and quite vocal yawn. “‘n all ‘m gonna do now is grab myself those leftovers from yesterday ‘n head back to bed. ‘n you can’t tell me  _ no _ ‘bout eatin’ in bed because  _ I don’t care right now. _ ”

He ruffled through Connor’s hair, mussing it up even more than it had already been and shuffled past him and towards the kitchen.

It didn’t look like Hank was up for investigating the issue and Connor wasn’t sure if it was wise to brief him about it. Hank hadn’t deliberately closed their connection  _ even once _ since him getting the implant, much to the surprise of the Deviant. He had expected that his partner would need much more time to get used to the constant exchange between them and lose the fear that Connor might see something that Hank wasn’t ready for – presumably about his past – and therefore would need a slow coaxing on Connor’s part to keep their link up for extended periods. But he’d been wrong. Hank had adapted rather quickly and even now could he feel the warmth and fondness directed at him, seeping through their bond.

And Connor feared that if he told him about his newfound access to his dreams – a state Hank couldn’t oversee or control much like the Deviant – that he might change his mind and deactivate the device. So instead of telling the man who was dozing off in the kitchen, waiting for the microwave to warm up his meal, Connor kept his mouth shut. He  _ would _ eventually tell him – after he had a talk with the doctor and the manufacturer, but first…

He needed more data.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter got much darker than I originally intended to... Next one will be much lighter and happy and schmoochy again, I promise!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS  
> Please note that these apply only for the dream-part since Hank is having a nightmare.  
> Mild gore, blood, dead people, kind of almost suicide

Lavender, sunshine, Sumo swimming in the open, wide sea. A small boat with an oversized sail, a fishing rod, seagulls cawing, the smell of saltwater. Idyllic and peaceful. Connor had never seen the sea before, nor had the smell of salt and algae ever tickled his nose, but the dream had felt so real. Like they’d been really there – out on the ocean, only Hank, him and their dog with a small sailboat as their only support from the light waves rocking them softly.

There were things that he couldn’t have ignored though. Fish not only swimming in the depths but also way above them, flying in circles along with the orange beaked birds. The boat’s deck covered by lawn with plants Connor has had planted at their house in Detroit. There had been the thick, blooming bush of lavender Hank had gotten him for their home; the smell penetrating his sinuses. Sumo had tried to tow Hank into the sea by the fishing rod that had spontaneously turned into a thick rope, enough for the St. Bernard’s teeth to dig in. The older man had cursed profusely as he had held his weight against the pull though the humor had been visible by the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.

Still, when the dream had eventually crumbled, Connor had longed for a few more moments inside. What had felt like an hour or two inside Hank’s dream had cost them exactly 7 hours and 32 minutes in real life.

“What in the ever-loving fuck….” Hank groused, having been ripped out of his sleep by the ruthless beeping of his old alarm clock. The Deviant had set and put it on his side of the bed on the small nightstand as a precaution should he fail to exit the dream on his own as he was usually the one making sure that Hank got out of bed and ready for work ever since he’s been living with him. The alarm clock had turned obsolete though it had regained its purpose for this morning.

Connor was quick to open his eyes as he rolled over and turn off the strident sound, detangling their limbs where they’ve been all cuddled up.

“I’m sorry, Hank.” he said softly, looking back to the older man he could barely see in the still rather dark room. The sun had yet to rise as it was only 5:30 AM.

“I’ll get breakfast ready and come and get you in about half an hour.”

Strong arms sneaked around his middle and pulled him back into the alluring warmth before a low voice rumbled into his ear.

“How ‘bout we skip breakfast and stay in bed for just a bit longer…”

Connor had to admit that the offer was rather tempting – having learned that Hank was rather affectionate in the early hours and seeing how the Deviant just loved to be close to his human – but it was more important that Hank got his much-needed nutrition for the start of the day before they’d get to work. He’d simply skip eating at all until lunch otherwise. Connor had seen it one too many times.

“Or…” Connor leaned closer, guiding his hand along the man’s bearded jawline and into the long, silvery strands. “You could take a long, hot shower, get dressed, and by the time you get out of the bath there’s bacon, scrambled eggs and toast just waiting for you in the kitchen.”

He could feel the other man’s frame shake as he laughed softly.

“You pullin’ the bacon card on me? I thought bacon’s off the table since it’s just fat with a teeny bit of meat?”

“Because it is, but I feel like giving you a treat today. And I’ll cut off most of the fat.”

“But then there’s like no bacon left!”

“That’s why I bought three packages of bacon to make up for the loss in quantity.”

“Oh my god…”

Connor could practically  _ feel  _ Hank rolling his eyes as the man rolled over and sat up slowly, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed to sit.

“Insufferable Android. Can’t believe it” he shook his head and mumbled something under his breath, a loud yawn following after.

Connor simply smiled to himself, enjoying the small banter he’s occasionally having with his partner. He rolled off and stood up from the bed himself while executing his routinely self-scan that only ever needed a second or two. Like before, nothing unusual had been recorded for the period he had been sharing the dream with Hank – like he’d simply laid dormant for the duration. His system has worked properly however inactive but there was no trace of when he had tuned into or left Hank’s dream stage.

The Deviant rounded the bed since he slept on the far side of the bed and shuffled out the bedroom but not before giving Hank his morning kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll get started. Take your time.”

Not bothering to change out of his boxer briefs and t-shirt just yet, he followed the narrow hallway while turning on the light on his way and shuffled into the small open kitchen to the left of the adjacent living room. He gave Sumo who was waiting near his empty bowl, wagging his tail lazily, a good rub before grabbing the large bag of food and filling the bowl to the brim. After that, he grabbed butter, bacon and eggs from the fridge and a pan from one of the lower cabinets and started breakfast. He could hear Hank transition from the bedroom into the bathroom and the sound of water running shortly after, while the mostly fat-free bacon sizzled in the pan. His sensors were triggered where the squirts from the searing butter hit his uncovered skin and he mused over the almost-pain. It was strong enough to be noticeable but not enough to make him flinch. He’d seen Hank curse over oil splashing on him whenever he decided to cook, whereas Connor saw the downside in cleaning the stove afterwards. Grease could be rather tenacious.

Just as Connor filled the plate with all the good things, Hank emerged from the bathroom, dressed in one of his usual dark blue pair of jeans and a stripeless, light blue shirt. They had expanded Hank’s striped three-shirt-collection with a few plainer colored ones when they’d gone out to get some more outfits for the Deviant himself earlier this year.

They sat down at the round kitchen table, Hank letting out an appreciative hum at the sight of the bacon-toast-egg filled plate and the fresh cup of coffee at his usual spot with the Deviant lounging in the chair opposite of him.

“So….” Connor began conversationally while he watched Hank enjoy his breakfast. “How did you sleep?”

Hank looked at him over the rim of his mug as he took a few gulps of the hot, caffeinated drink, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Good? Like a rock? I guess....” the man shrugged before digging back into his food.

Connor thought carefully about his next words as he didn’t want Hank to get suspicious. He could ask him if he had noticed anything unusual, could ask him on a more metaphorical basis how it was to dream or directly ask him if he’d dreamt at all. He wanted Hank’s point of view without the knowledge that Connor has actually been in his dream. He wanted his answer to be as unbiased and candid as possible.

“You’ve been quite active this night. Did you have a bad dream?”

Hank scrunched his eyebrows in thought as he chewed and swallowed before answering.

“Nah… not really? Sorry if I disturbed you in your task of staring at me while I slept.” he smirked, obviously joking about Connor’s earlier habits of watching Hank as he had nothing better to do during the night. Now he usually laid with him all cuddled up and with his eyes closed, settings set to resting mode or he’d spent the night watching TV or doing research on the Internet. However, he would make sure that he would be in bed with Hank each morning after the older man had complained with a pout one time about not having him by his side when he wakes up.

“Something as simple as you rolling around in bed wouldn’t keep me from having my eyes trained on you, Hank.” Connor played along with a small smirk of his own and Hank huffed amused before taking another swing of his coffee.

“So, you don’t remember your dream?” he asked, hoping that he wasn’t too direct. Hank thought a second before shaking his head.

“No. Don’t think I ever have, to be honest. Not the good ones, anyway. And I wouldn’t even know what those would be about. Probably something stupid.” He cleared the last scraps from his plate and stood up to put it into the dishwasher.

It was unfortunate that Hank seemed to be the kind of human not being able to remember his dreams. It was a major part for his analysis but there didn’t seem a way around it.

“But you  _ do  _ remember your nightmares?”

Hank halted for a second as he stared at the counter, before lifting his gaze to the Deviant still sitting at the small kitchen table.

“Yes, unfortunately. And let me tell you – they ain’t pretty. So be glad that you don’t have to deal with shit like that.”

The Android lifted his brows but nodded in acknowledgement nonetheless.

“Another thing, Connor – most would think of it as a nightmare if they’d stand at work dressed in nothing but their undies. Do you want to stay like that or get dressed sometime soon? I mean I won’t judge...” Hank smirked as he filled another cup of coffee.

“I’ll be ready in a minute...!”

Connor jumped into action and wandered off to their shared bedroom and opened his part of the large wardrobe at the left side of the room. While he lay out the outfit for the day – a dark-grey jacket, white dress shirt and a black pair of jeans – and got dressed, his mind summarized what information he had gained so far.

First – he was still not able to leave a dream at will. He had tried physical stimulation, shock scenarios and telling Hank that they were in a dream. Nothing had worked.

Second – he was not able to influence the dream whatsoever, not like when they purposely shared a fantasy when each of them was awake. He couldn’t make things appear or change their surroundings. But, and this was crucial, he could  _ tell _ Hank things and the dream would change and shift. Small details would pop up related to what he had told him, other times the entire dream would twist and take a whole new shape that didn’t appear to have a relation at first but might be an association from his memories.

Third – Hank was not aware that he was there, but his subconsciousness also didn’t appear to see him as foreign, something that wasn’t supposed to be there. That could have several reasons. Maybe Hank has frequently dreamt about him before in some form or way so that his presence didn’t appear strange. Another reason could be that Hank was simply used to having him around.

Whatever it was, him dreamwalking shouldn’t have been possible in the first place. However, he deemed the information sufficient for now and quickly requested an appointment with the manufacturer and the clinic via email.

Further research had to wait for the time being as they still had work to do at the DPD.

\---

“Fuck!”

The front door hit the wall with so much force that it left a visible indentation on the faded, white plaster as the older man stomped inside.

“Fuck! I can’t fucking believe it!” Hank spit out, his whole body vibrating with rage and his heart rate accelerated. Connor followed him inside, closing the door softly behind him as he watched Hank rip open the door of the fridge to grab a beer before looking back irritated at the Android.

“But it’s over, Hank…. He will cause no more harm.”

“Yes and because of what? Because that dirty  _ fucktard of a coward _ killed himself before we could get to him!” Hank shouted as he ripped the can open, not caring that it fumed over and spilled onto the tiled kitchen floor before he took a long gulp of the beer.

They had gotten a difficult case that day. Not in the sense of complexity, but rather emotional exertion. They had gotten a distress ping from an Android model of a YX500 child-series earlier this morning. The newer models had a built-in emergency call function that gets sent to the nearest police station and since Hank and Connor were the primary pair to work Android related cases, they had been the ones to leave the station to investigate.

The house the young Android had lived at was in the nicer areas of Detroit where the criminal rate was lower than in other parts of the city. The front yard had been well kept, the house just having gotten a fresh layer of white paint. What they had been greeted with however, after they’d heard a gunshot and broken down the front door, hadn’t been so nice.

They had found the first body, a woman in her mid-forties, lying halfway up the stairs leading to the first floor with trickles of red fluid running down the steps. The second body, her husband, had been found in the upstairs bathroom, spread out on the tiled floor with a gun in one hand and a hole in his head, lying in a puddle of his own fresh blood. They had found Michael, the pair’s adopted Android son, cowering between the toilet and bathtub, staring blankly at his dead father. Hank had stayed with him, trying to coax him out of hiding while Connor had checked the other rooms. To their horror, there had been another body. The one of Rachel, only ten years old and Michael’s human sister. Connor had found her in the pink colored room which had supposedly been hers. She had still been alive, but her breath and heart had been weak; a miracle seeing as she also had a bullet wound to her head. Connor had been quick to call in an ambulance and Hank had helped him to keep her stable while the Deviant had scouted the rest of the house but there had been no signs of an intruder or another person.

After the initial shock, Michael had been able to tell them what had happened. Apparently, the father, Peter McCawley, had come home earlier than usual and had first shot his wife Sandra McCawley before going upstairs in search for his children. Michael had already pinged the DPD by then after he had heard the firing of a gun, and had him and Rachel hid under the bed. It hadn’t taken long before they had been found by their father though. Peter had been crying according to the young Android, telling them how sorry he was as he had hugged them and placed a kiss to their foreheads and that they would see each other in the next life. Then he had shot the young girl. Michael had managed to break out of his father’s hold before locking himself in the bathroom but that, too, hadn’t deterred Peter for long. The door had been kicked in but Hank and Connor’s arrival must’ve jarred him when they’d knocked at the door. With one last glance at the Android, Peter had taken his own life right in front of the boy.

Their investigations throughout the rest of the day had shown that Peter had consumed an excessive amount of Red Ice, as a possible result of losing his job at the consulting company he’d been working at for over twenty-three years. The family had been in a financial crisis for years, but Peter McCawley had hidden all evidence from his wife and kids. Losing the last source of income and with no chance of getting a new job quickly must’ve been the final trigger.

It had been a dramatic ending. The man’s actions had been impulsive, affect based and the downward spiraling emotions drug enhanced. His family had to suffer for it but miraculously Rachel had survived and had gone into a stable condition after an emergency surgery. The children would be placed into foster care after they have been released from the hospital.

“You don’t kill other people to deal with shit like that! They could’ve moved for starters, but what did he do? Go on a motherfucking killing spree, that’s it! What kind of logic is that?! Going for his own  _ wife _ and  _ kids _ !” Hank raged on, kicking off his shoes, not caring where they landed before crashing down onto the worn couch.

Connor supposed Hank was upset not only because they weren’t able to bring the man to justice, but also because of the involvement of minors. Children were a delicate subject around Hank that Connor tried to tiptoe around, but in their field of work it wasn’t uncommon for the involvement of minors. He could tell that the man was exhausted, both physically and mentally and the waves of anger, disappointment, sorrow and even guilt washed through their link unfiltered.

“There was nothing we could have done better... and the kids are still alive.“ the Deviant said softly, slowly walking over to his agitated partner.

“Yes, by pure chance!”

Still fuming, Hank grabbed the remote for the TV and turned it on before he zapped to the next news channel and throwing the remote back down onto the coffee table. As expected, the incident was the topic of the day and would probably be for the next few until something else would make the headlines. The report was in the middle of showing the yellow police tape enclosing the crime scene but before they could get into details, Connor turned the TV back off. He sat down beside Hank just so that their knees were bumping. He watched his partner in silence who was shaking his head in thought as he grumbled something to himself before emptying the can in his hand with another gulp.

“Humans are fucked up, Connor. They’re careless and reckless and just-.. just-..!”

“But not all, right? You wouldn’t be having this job if you thought otherwise.” Connor offered, knowing that Hank is a good man at heart and even with all the things he’d seen and went through, still would do anything to save an innocent life.

Hank sighed, all the tension leaving him in a rush as he slumped further into the couch, the adrenaline finally wearing off.

“‘s just hard sometimes. Especially when you feel like you just can’t do anything, or you haven’t done enough...”

Hank absentmindedly turned and rolled the empty beer can in his hands, pressing down the pull tab until it jolted back up with a metallic sound. The Deviant shuffled closer so they were touching from shoulder to thigh, not taking his eyes off the man beside him.

“We’ve done everything we could. If it weren’t for us, those children would’ve been killed.”

The older man still didn’t look at him and continued to repeatedly press the pull tab down. Their bond had gone silent, almost void. He couldn’t phantom what Hank was possibly brooding about. And he had no clue how to cheer him up.

“How about I make you a hot cup of tea and we’ll watch a movie? Sounds good?” The Deviant tried with a smile however fruitless.

Even Sumo had caught onto the human’s mood and sat down beside Hank on the floor before putting his head on the man’s thigh while whining quietly and looking up to him with big, brown eyes. Nonetheless, the human simply sat there, silent and unmoving, the metallic  _ drrr _ the only noise coming from his direction. Seconds ticked by, then a minute, then two before Hank let out a long, defeated sigh and slowly stood back up. Hank looked just so sad, almost devastated.

“‘m gonna head to bed.” He carefully stepped over Sumo and slowly scuffled towards his bedroom.

“But you haven’t had dinner yet..!” Connor called as he watched Hank disappear into his room, the door opening and closing quietly behind him.

He looked down at Sumo who was now staring up to the Android with his big, sad eyes, tilting his head as if asking him what had happened. Connor let out a sigh much like the human as he petted Sumo, the fluffy fur somehow soothing.

“We had quite an exhausting day today, don’t mind him. He’s not mad at you, he could never be….” he told the dog, positive that though the St. Bernard couldn’t understand his words, he could perceive the emotion delivered through his voice.

“How about I give you your food?”

Connor smiled down at him and Sumo gave him an appreciative bark before wagging his body towards his empty bowl. After he had fed Sumo and prepared a small snack containing a few vegetables like carrots, cucumber and some toast with butter and ham, completed with a glass of water, he wandered towards the bedroom where Hank had disappeared into. He fumbled with the handle as both his hands were occupied, before slowly opening the creaking door with his left elbow. The room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway behind him, painting a long, dark figure of his shadow through the room. Hank was already lying in bed with his back to the door, covers pulled high. Connor could tell that he was still awake, his respiration still too quick for the usual slow and prolonged breath pattern of when he was sleeping. He turned off the light in the hallway before he stepped into the bedroom, his memory of the room enough to lead him safely to the bed. He sat down beside Hank and placed the plate and class on the nightstand before switching on the single bedside lamp.

“I brought you something to eat.” Connor whispered, somehow anxious to disturb the current calm with too much noise.

“‘m not hungry.” Hank grumbled into the pillow.

“You haven’t eaten since this morning and have refused to let me get you a sandwich earlier, so you must be hungry…”

Hank simply ignored him.

“Please Hank…” he wouldn’t let his partner ignore his basic needs because his emotional state kept him occupied.

“God-fucking-hell Connor, you can be so annoying sometimes...” Hank groused half-heartedly as he threw his blanket back to sit up and lean against the headrest of the bed. “Will you just shut up if I eat this?” he scowled at the Android before squinting down at the plate beside him.

“I promise.” Connor nodded pleased and smiled at his partner.

While Hank was busy munching on one of the carrots grumpily, Connor got up and started to get ready for bed himself. He shrugged out of his jacket and shirt and hung it on a hanger to the knob of the large wardrobe – the knob barely high enough so his clothes didn’t touch the floor. Lastly, he shimmied out his shoes, socks and jeans; the shoes were neatly placed below the single chair in the corner to the far left of the room and his jeans folded and laid onto the seat together with the socks, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs. When he turned back around, he was almost disappointed to see Hank still only staring absentmindedly down at the plate. He had put it in his lap, chewing slowly, the one carrot still in his hand but not one bite shorter. Connor went to his own side of the bed and grabbed his way too large shirt he used to sleep in from underneath the blankets and put it on before joining Hank under the blankets. He turned on his side, his head cushioned by the white pillow as he gazed up at Hank, wondering what got his partner so distracted.

“Do you want to talk about it? About today?”

Even though he had the feeling that Hank was done talking for the day, he still felt to at least offer an open ear. As expected, his partner shook his head in a silent  _ no _ . The Deviant didn’t want to pry further and remained silent. He could sense that Hank wasn’t upset anymore, only a soft trickle of uneasiness, sadness and something he couldn’t place flowing through their link, but he also got the feeling Hank was filtering what was led through the bond.

With nothing better to do, the Deviant let his eyes roam over the form beside him. He noticed a hole at the seam of Hank’s dark-grey shirt and reached out, the action almost natural now that he could touch the older man whenever he felt like it – with a few exceptions. He sneaked his hand under the shirt and stretched the soft material slightly until he found the hole from the other side with his fingertips to inspect it further. The threat was torn but it shouldn’t take much to repair. He followed the seam upwards to see if there were any other occurrences until he couldn’t reach any higher because of the man’s arm being in the way.

“You always have to fiddle with something, don’t you…” Hank mumbled. Connor looked back up to the man to find him watching and was pleased to see that there was a softness back to his eyes.

“You have a hole in your shirt.” The Deviant informed him helpfully, pulling his hand back until the hole was visible again with his light skin tone acting as contrast. “I might be able to fix this. I might not know how yet, but it shouldn’t be too hard to sew it back together.”

Hank stared down at Connor as he pulled his hand out only to be hit by a sudden wave of fondness and affection. He blinked up to his partner, a soft smile tugging on his lips as a result.

“What did I do?”

But Hank stayed silent and only shook his head softly before abandoning the carrot and instead grabbed the sandwich. He practically devoured it with three huge bites, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk as he roughly chewed it before washing it down with a prominent gulp of water. The plate was haphazardly put back on the nightstand, the vegetables ignored. Hank turned the light off and slid down until he was lying beside the Android as silence settled over them. He could hear Sumo walk around the living room, his claws clicking on the wooden floor before the sound came closer. The creaking of the bedroom door betrayed the dog’s arrival and just when Sumo must’ve gotten close enough to the bed, a sudden weight near the foot shook them both. Hank let out another sigh as Sumo all but squeezed himself in between them.

“Goddamnit Sumo…” Hank scolded affectionately. “Argh!”

From the slobbering noise Connor presumed that the gentle giant was licking his owner’s face which, concluding from the sound of protest and the ongoing struggle that was transferred through the mattress, Hank tried to evade without success.

“He tries to cheer you up, Hank. Dogs know when their owners need comfort.” Connor quipped in with a smile, pressing himself against the animal and slinging one arm and leg over the large form. The fur was soft and warm, and he buried his face in Sumo’s shoulder, the hair tickling his nose.

“You’re both insufferable, you know that...! Can’t even be alone to think even for  _ one moment  _ in this house!”

“It’s because we love you and want to make sure that you are okay.”

As if to confirm this, Sumo let out a short bark before turning his head around to lick the Android’s hair. Connor wasn’t bothered by it, quite the contrary. He loved how unconditionally dogs could show their affection and love towards others. He wished he could be as open with Hank whenever and wherever they were, but prejudice and a large portion of society still filled with incredulity towards Androids might lead to unpleasant repercussions.

“Well, then he should learn to do that in a less disgusting way…!” Hank groused and turned before he also slung an arm around the St. Bernard. The dog let out a rough huff before settling down for good, content in his current position.

“But it’s slobber of  _ love _ , Hank. You can’t take away one of the only ways to express himself!” Connor grinned against the fur.

“ _ Slobber of love _ my ass…” Hank mumbled before silence settled over them once again.

The Deviant enjoyed the soft rise and fall with each breath Sumo took, somehow finding comfort in the steady rhythm of their combined breaths. He slid his hand over the dog’s coat, following the lie of the hair until his hand bumped against the older man’s arm. He let it wander over the haired limb, lower until it settled over Hank’s hand. They moved until their fingers were entwined, laid out on top of Sumo and cushioned by the soft fur. Maybe they would talk tomorrow, maybe never. Hank had a thing for only ever giving him snippets of his more troubled thoughts or glimpses of the past. Connor tried to work with what he was provided with or what the Deviant could figure out on his own, but for now he would try his best to grant Hank a good night's sleep, hoping he could keep the nightmares at bay should there be any.

\---

It was snowing, thick flakes of the downy white and a biting wind hitting him in the face. It wasn’t a pleasant way to find himself in a dream. He rose his hand to shield himself at least somewhat, squinting into the distance in hopes to figure out just where he was. It was  _ freezing _ .

“Hank??”

He called out but got no answer. The snow was building rapidly, already burying him to the ankles. He couldn’t see  _ anything _ , everything was just pure white and grey. It almost reminded him of when Amanda had him locked up in his own mind, making him panic just a little. He turned in circles until he thought he saw the silhouette of trees to his left, shadows against the white horizon. He pushed himself forward, taking one step at a time as his uniform was ripped around by the strong winds. As he came closer, the trees getting more distinguishable with each step, he noticed a light near the frontline and what looked like a roadside ditch. Was he on a street? There was smoke coming from the ditch. When he got closer, he could see there was a truck, laying on its side in the immersion. Suddenly all wind stopped causing Connor to almost tumble over at the missing force. He caught himself just in time before he’d joined the truck in the ditch. The driver’s door was open but there was no sign of the driver anywhere. The smoke was coming from the engine, the windshield was smashed and one of the headlights had died, surmising that there must’ve been an accident. Further down the road he could barely see another car. The snow was obscuring most of it, but the car seemed to be in even worse condition than the truck. He jogged closer, hoping to find out what this was Hank was dreaming about but he had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.

The car was upside down and black smoke was coming from the front. The passenger door had been ripped open, the door behind it ripped off entirely, all windows smashed. The snow around the car was now only covering the road with a thin layer, making it easy to spot each piece of debris. The car was a black Chevy, his memory added helpfully. Or at least, what was left of it. The glass crunched under his feet as he stepped even closer, rounding the vehicle clockwise but he didn’t see anyone trapped inside.

Just when he rounded the trunk of the car he spotted Hank sitting on the ground beside the totaled car, his back turned to him. Connor could hear him mumble something under his breath, rocking softly from side to side. The Deviant pressed his lips together as he noticed the pair of legs peeking out to one side, too small to be from an adult. He took a guess to whom they belong.

“Hank…”

He slowly stepped closer. He stretched out his hand but just as he was about to touch his shoulder, their surroundings changed suddenly.

Now they were in a car, the beige colored interior the same as from the Chevy. It was nighttime, the streetlights and trees rushing by as they sped down the highway and a soft dust of snow speckling the dark sky where the flakes were hit by the orange light. Hank was sitting beside him on the driver's seat while the Deviant was placed on the passenger’s side, the heater amped up to the max. Hank had a soft smile on his face and was looking younger than when they had met originally. He looked better. He looked  _ good _ . His hair was shorter with a shimmer of blonde still visible, beard trimmed and some of his wrinkles were missing. This must be from a direct memory.

“You won’t sleep if you don’t close your eyes, you know.” Hank rumbled in his low voice.

Connor thought that he’d been addressed, but his partner was looking into the rearview mirror to someone on the back seat and when the Deviant turned around, he was there, dressed in only his fire-truck-spotted pajamas, looking up at Connor with big, blue eyes and short, sandy hair. It was Cole.

“I’m still not tired…” came the high, childish voice from the boy who rubbed his eyes with one hand.

“How so? It’s almost  _ midnight _ . You’d be asleep by now any other day.”

Cole only shrugged but even Connor could see that he was hiding something. The Deviant was unsure of what to do in this situation. Hank hadn’t acknowledged him yet, only Cole seemed to be aware of him as he was still being watched by him. So Hank must also be aware as the child was only part of his subconsciousness – but where were they? Hank switched between keeping his eyes on the road and watching his son through the mirror.

“I saw the Coke, you know. Did you finally manage to coax your mother into letting you try some?”

Cole looked down to his hands, fumbling with the hem of his long-sleeved pajama shirt before he answered with a pout and a shrug.

“Maybe…”

“Hank…” Connor interrupted and looked at his partner, hoping to get some answers. “Where are we?”

The older man glanced over to him, the smile never leaving his lips.

“Boy’s got trouble sleeping sometimes so I take him on a ride. Usually helps, but now that he’s had some good old caffeine, I think we might still have a few miles ahead of us.”

“Is this the night where he died?” Connor asked, dreading what might happen in the next few minutes.

“What? No! No-one’s gonna die on my watch, Connor! Don’t say shit like that in front of him!” he scowled at the Deviant.

But just as the last syllable had left his lips, there was a loud crash up ahead and the screeching noise of tires on asphalt. A truck – the very same Connor had seen earlier – swiveled back and forth on the two-laned road, the trailer blocking most of it as it slid from side to side over the slick asphalt, coming at them at high speed and leaving them no chance to evade other than driving into the ditch beside the road. Hank must’ve had the same idea and ripped the wheel around, Cole screaming at the sudden movement, but he wasn’t quick enough.

The back of the car got caught by the end of the trailer, the momentum spinning them around and back onto the road. The car overturned multiple times and kept on rolling as Connor did his best to hold onto anything. He had his eyes pressed shut, he noticed, as he felt and heard the car slide the last few feet to a stop as he hung in the seat upside down; the seatbelt and his vice grip on the seat and dashboard the only thing really keeping him from crashing down.

When he opened his eyes next, he wasn’t in the car anymore.  _ They _ weren’t in the car anymore. The scene had changed once again, and the disorientation hit him hard. They were standing in Hank’s house, in the living room, but the most disturbing part was the dead bodies littering the floor. There was Captain Fowler, a woman he didn’t know, Cole, even Sumo and other’s Connor couldn’t place right then, all dead and smeared with blood. Hank was standing in the middle of them with his revolver in one hand. He was  _ drenched  _ in blood. Smears on his face, his hands, his clothes, even in his hair. He looked desperate as he rolled the cylinder of the revolver before putting it to his temple and pulling the trigger before Connor had even a chance to react – but instead of a gunshot, a soft click indicated the unloaded chamber. He looked devastated, as if he’d hoped for a bullet.

“Hank!” Connor shouted as he jumped into action.

He toed over the dead bodies, trying not to fall over limbs as he tried to reach his partner.

“Hank, you need to wake up! Please – this is not real! You’ve got to realize!”

“I just can’t do it, Connor... it won’t work. It’s like life is punishing me for being careless…”

Hank was rambling on as he rolled the cylinder once again before putting it to his head and firing, only to be disappointed by another  _ click _ . Connor tried and tried to move forwards, but he was kept in place, trapped to the same spot near the front door. He would look down to see where he was stepping and each time he would look back up, he wasn’t one step closer to Hank.

“- I have tried, believe me, I have... to just fucking end this misery but it has  _ never worked _ .”

Another spin of the cylinder was followed by another  _ click _ .

“Please Hank, this is a dream! You  _ need _ to wake up! This isn’t real! Think- Think about where we might be at this moment. We might be in bed, or maybe we’ve fallen asleep on the couch-”

Hank stared at him with sad blue eyes rimmed by dark circles before he trained the gun at the Deviant.

“Is it true that I just have to drag everyone else down first before I get some bloody relieve?”

Connor froze, not daring to move as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

“You don’t want to do this.”

Connor had actually no idea what impact it might have on his real body should he die in a dream, but it was one thing he wasn’t desperate to find out.

“Of course I don’t! I would never want to hurt you or anybody! But it happens, because everything is just a mess! A mess I don’t know the way out of!  _ I _ should have been the one who died that night, not him!”

The gun shook visibly in the older man’s hand, his whole body was shivering with tremors. He was sweating, small droplets on his forehead shimmering in the dim light. Sirens were coming closer, he could hear them outside, the blue and red light already seeping through the window behind him.

“This is not on you, Hank. He died in the hospital where and Android hadn’t been able to save him. It was an accident! Don’t blame yourself!”

At the mention of the hospital the volume of the sirens grew louder and louder, roaring in his ears at an almost painful level. Then it started to snow again, coming from the ceiling and the flakes falling slowly to the ground. Only this time they were red and crystalline – like  _ Red Ice _ .

“You don’t know how much I miss him, Connor.. How much I miss  _ my son _ …!” Hank’s voice cracked, his eyes teary and without a moment’s notice he pulled the gun back around and pulled the trigger, the gunshot drowning out even the sirens.

“ _ Hank! _ ” Connor shouted as he sat up, back in their bed with Sumo and Hank beside him. He was panting heavily as the shock slowly subsided and it took him a second to orientate. Hank was breathing just as fast where he was lying on the other side of the snoring dog, also awake.

Connor crawled over the animal to lean over his partner in worry, turning on the bedside lamp only to be faced with Hank’s haunted look. It looked like the other man still didn’t quite know where they were or what had just happened, his mind probably still struggling with the residual sleep. He was sweating profusely, his forehead littered with salty drops and part of his shirt darker at spots. The Deviant cupped his face with both hands as he stared down at him and waited until the blue orbs found his.

“Everything is fine, ok? It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t! It was an accident!” Connor rambled, still shaken from the experience of almost having watched his lover kill himself.

“What are you talking about…” Hank rasped, confusion clear on his face as his brain tried to piece the dream back together. The angst was crashing through the bond back and forth, the adrenaline from Hank making the Deviant’s hands shake.

“ _ It was an accident!  _ Are you still thinking about committing suicide, Hank? Why did you try it so vehemently?!” He thought they were over this, that Hank had gotten better! He hadn’t had gotten drunk quite as much as he used to and hadn’t had a bad episode in an even longer time!

“What do you… did you… did you see it?” Hank frowned up at him while pushing his hands away.

“Why haven’t you told me that your nightmares were still that bad?”

“How?? How did you- how?!” he barked, getting more and more agitated by the second and Connor huffed in annoyance for not getting an answer. It felt like his pump regulator was pumping a mile a minute with the sound of thirium rushing through his ears.

“I am able to be a part of your dreams! I’ve found out about it only two days ago. I can watch passively or talk to you, but I can’t influence it directly and you need to wake up first for me to get out. Now  _ please  _ answer my questions!”

Hank stared up at him wide-eyed before Connor was being pushed off the man. He landed with an  _ oomph  _ at the foot of the bed as he stared at his partner who got up in rage.

“You  _ what _ ?!”

“I-”

“You just snuck into my head when I wasn’t aware of that? That’s what it was all about this morning? About my  _ dreams _ ?! And you didn’t bother on telling me?!”

Maybe he should have waited a minute or two for them both to calm down before confronting Hank – but he had been  _ worried _ , and  _ anxious _ when he’d effectively woken up, that he hadn’t even thought about the effect his words might have. Hank was practically  _ seething _ with anger and indignation; his face was flushed and body taunt.

“There hadn’t been the right time... I hadn’t even known what was going on myself-”

“There hadn’t been the right time?! What about informing me beforehand? You’ve talked about this stupid thing for months!” He shouted while pointing at the spot where the implant was snug under his skin. “You’ve had all the time in the world then!”

Connor slowly scooted closer to the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath to calm himself before answering.

“Like I said, I hadn’t known that this was possible. Neither did the company nor the doctor.”

“Oh!  _ Great! _ You’ve already talked with  _ them  _ about it! What the fuck is this Connor – some fucking game to you? Where you can just doctor around and  _ analyze  _ without giving a  _ flying fuck _ about me or what I’d think about it?!” Hank stepped closer while angrily pointing a finger at him, teeth clenching. Connor had never seen him like  _ this _ before.

“I’m sorry! I should have told you earlier-”

“Yes, you should have! But you know what? Too-fucking-late! Now get the fuck outta here, I can’t stand to see your face at the moment!”

Hank turned his back on him, shoulders shaking slightly as he brushed his hair back with one hand. Their bond was cut off suddenly, feeling like a whiplash to the Android at its suddenness that made him flinch visibly. What was left was his own cocktail of desperation, anxiety and worry that he’d done something irreparable.

“I am sorry! I shouldn’t have done this, but please calm down!”

“I said get out!!” Hank whipped back around and grabbed the pillow from his side of the bed before throwing it into the Android’s face. It didn’t hurt, but the act spoke volumes. Connor didn’t think that he had a chance to speak another word, and so he quickly got up from the bed and strode to the open bedroom door and Hank stomped after him. Connor turned around to look at his partner, hoping that he still had a chance to somehow fix this, but the door was thrown into his face before he could do anything else. Connor was stunned silent, his light flickering between red and yellow, not quite sure how to evaluate what has just transpired.

He stood in front of the door, in the darkness, until the crashing sound of furniture from within had subsided and the light from under the door has gone out. Only Sumo’s soft whimpers, probably to try and calm his owner, was now the only sound.

The Deviant stood there for two hours, unmoving, listening, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. He carefully pressed his ear to the wooden door, but he could only hear the faint sound of breathing. At least it appeared to be coming from two separate beings, telling him that Hank hadn’t managed to do something… lethal. He knew that there shouldn’t be any weapons in the room – he had checked. Another thing he had kept from Hank, but he didn’t want the man to think that he was controlling him or not trusting him with a weapon. He  _ did _ , but it was still important to him to know  _ where  _ all possible threats were hidden. Like Hank’s secret stash of whiskey under the sink behind several bottles of detergent.

It was almost rounding four o’clock in the morning when Connor gave up and walked barefooted down the hall on silent feet, sitting down on the old couch in the living room. He was still only dressed in his oversized shirt and boxer briefs, leaving him wondering what he was supposed to do. He didn’t even know how to label  _ this _ . Were they having a fight? Was it a… break-up? Normally it took human couples about three to four fights until the final break up, but he had no data on human-android relationships, no statistics he could read off their current status or instructions he could consult. But even if he had just ultimately destroyed what tender closeness they had, it wasn’t important at this current moment.

It was possible that Hank would have another nightmare should he fall asleep again and Connor wasn’t allowed to be near him to offer comfort. It  _ hurt _ . Somehow even physically, his wires were vibrating with an unpleasant buzz and his skin felt sensitive to touch. He would wait until morning, listening, until he heard Hank get up at least.

Maybe he should call Markus, he might know what to do in a situation like this. His relationship with North wasn’t quite the same, but he still might have some insight.

So the Deviant sat back, with his hands in his lap, staring ahead blankly, as he waited for the sun to rise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHMAGOSH I'M SO SORRY
> 
> THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVELY COMMENT'S I STILL HADN'T HAD TIME TO REPLY TO! YOU ARE THE BEST AND KEEP ME MOTIVATED!
> 
> There's been so much going on...!!! And I have probably rewritten this chapter like FIVE TIMES! It's been so hard!
> 
> I just started a new job and it has been crazy! Of course there had to be like last-minute-fixes for several projects that should have been finished a week prior GAH. And I've spent most of September and October with an extension a friend and I are working on - it had been part of a developer challenge and we've actually made the 2nd place but it's been crazy hard work and we're still working on it. Aaaaand I had trouble finding a project for my studies. Getting bitched at by a professor I had been waiting for an answer from for a mail FOR A WEEK! Sigh.
> 
> Anyways, I'm glad things are starting to calm down again. I missed this!

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright? I can come in with you if you want.”

“Thank you Markus, but I’ll be fine. I’ll wash and bring you back your clothes as soon as I can. Thank you for lending me them.”

“Don’t worry about it. The outfit suits you.”

Markus smirked at Connor in the passenger seat of the autonomous car as they were headed for Hank’s house. The tight, black v-neck still felt strange on the Deviant’s body and there were too many zippers on his jeans for his liking with no purpose other than aesthetics. The sneakers were quite comfortable at least.

“I’m just not sure what to expect. He might be drunk... or simply sleeping. Maybe both. Or he might still be angry with me. Whatever the situation, I don’t feel prepared for any of them.”

His mind has been swirling around Hank, their fight and what might happen when he gets back ever since Markus had picked him up that morning. There were just too many variables, to many possible outcomes to pin down a likely scenario. He absentmindedly fiddled with one of the zippers on his jeans, the puller jiggling around every time he pulled and released it.

“There’s no way in knowing until we get there, I’m afraid...” Markus said, his voice empathetic.

Connor watched the small houses and bungalows rush by. He was _itching_ to get back to his partner. He’d been assured by Markus that the fight most likely hadn’t caused an end to their relationship and the Deviant had meticulously laid out each word he would say to apologize to the older man. Said man who was currently walking down the sidewalk with Sumo strolling a few steps ahead of him.

“Stop the car!” Connor shouted as he pushed the emergency brake button on the display between them. The car made a sharp turn to the side of the road and came to a stop with screeching tires; only a few feet ahead from Hank. He could see the confused look on the other man’s face through the side mirror and tugged at the door handle impatiently, but before he could slip out the car, a hand on his arm kept him in place.

“Hey wait!” Markus said as he leaned closer to the Deviant. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. Even if you just want to do something fun, alright?”

Connor scrunched his brows in confusion as he looked at the other Android.

“Fun?”

Markus grinned and shrugged. “Yeah. We could go out sometime, for instance. We haven’t seen a lot of you the past few months.”

Connor still wasn’t quite sure what he meant by ‘fun’ but he may ask him another time for clarification.

“I will call you. Thank you again, Markus.”

Markus released his arm before patting him on the shoulder good-naturedly.

“Let me know how it went. Good luck.”

Another nod and Connor slid out the open door, sliding it closed behind him without looking back. His eyes were already zeroed onto his target of interest, not leaving it even as he heard the car start up again and drive away. The warm, late afternoon breeze tugged at his clothes softly as if to soothe his nerves. The sun already low on the horizon and shining partly blinding him made it hard to really distinguish the man’s features from the distance. He was still a few feet away, strolling towards Connor in his usual, unhurried pace he used to have whenever he was out with Sumo. The St. Bernard on the other hand appeared eager to get a good petting from the Android and trotted along the walkway to where Connor was waiting for them. He noticed the leash in the man’s hand, unfastened to Sumo’s collar, but he would scold Hank another time for not having Sumo on the leash near a road.

The Deviant grinned down at the monster of a dog as he got closer and kneeled down, welcoming the warm, wet tongue on his face as he wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck and buried his hands into the fluffy coat.

“Hello, Sumo!” Connor greeted him happily, hugging him tightly. The wagging of his tail and excited whining told him that Sumo was just as excited to see him. He had trouble keeping his balance as the weight of the dog threatened to push him backwards but he somehow managed. He could hear the steps of Hank stop just in front of them and when he looked up the smile on his face slowly vanished. Blue, tired orbs blinked down at the Android, brows scrunched together in a soft frown. Hank looked absolutely _miserable_ . There were dark circles under his eyes, telling Connor that he probably hadn’t had a lot of sleep the remainder of the night and the usual crystal blue color of his orbs was muted. And that _look_. The big eyed, sad look Sumo sometimes got when they were about to leave the house or when they were on their way to the vet.

Connor stood up slowly. Moments passed as they took each other in silently, eyes flickering over each other’s forms before they locked again. His LED whirled yellow as he analyzed the input within seconds. There were only small traces of ethanol but more so caffeine at the corners his mouth and in his beard. Otherwise his posture was steady, his eyes focused and all in all wasn’t showing any signs of severe intoxication, much to his surprise. He took in a breath, ready to voice his memorized apology but Hank cut him off before he could get out even a syllable.

“Let’s get home first, a’right…? Then we can talk.”

Hanks voice was quiet, lacking the strength he usually had in his baritone. The older man averted his eyes before he pushed his hands further into the pockets of the light jacket he wore and continued on his way down the sidewalk and towards their home. Sumo had already trotted ahead again, lazily snuffing around their neighbors’ front yards, knowing exactly where to go and not sparing them another glance.

Connor blinked at the man but quickly followed into step. He silently walked beside him but couldn’t help himself but muster his partner some more, not sure how to place Hank’s current mood. He didn’t appear to be angry anymore, but his shoulders were tense, and he resolutely stared ahead onto the ground as they slowly made their way past the last few houses.

Logically, there wasn’t any reason to be anxious. They would talk. Hank wasn’t under the influence of alcohol. Everything pointed to a calm and collected discussion of the situation and past events. And yet, his fingers were twitchy, and his wires were buzzing unpleasantly. It felt like he his system was running on double the power usage by the time he let Hank unlock the front door to let them in. Sumo squeezed past the man’s legs and went straight for the water bowl while his owner went straight for the coffee machine. The smell of roasted coffee beans hung heavy in the air and was only amplified when Hank helped himself with a cup.

The Deviant follower the older man inside after closing the front door behind him, hovering at the threshold between living room and kitchen, unsure, his light flashing repeatedly as he tried to decide what to do next. Maybe this was finally his chance to apologize.

“I am truly sorry, Hank…” he started, trying to gain the attention of the man. “About what I did. How I intruded a very personal part of your mind and memories. I can’t undo what I have already done… or what I have seen. But I can do better in the future.”

The reaction he got however wasn’t one he would’ve expected. Hank had looked almost _pained_ for a split second as he settled onto leaning against the counter while staring down the steaming cup in his hands, a deep frown now in place. There was a long, stretched silence between them again which left Connor rowing. The lack of a verbal response let the Deviant long for their connection even more. At least then he could somewhat file the current situation to a certain direction.

“Where have you been…?” Hank mumbled as he took a careful sip of his coffee, his eyes only briefly finding their way to the Android even if they didn’t quite reach his face.

Connor hesitated. He didn’t want that particular topic to be the first they’d discuss. Not because he had something to hide, but it stood the chance that Hank might get angry again. And he wanted the man to at least be somewhat comfortable around him again before he’d breach his whereabouts for that day.

“Markus had picked me up after I had called him this morning.”

The older man grimaced at the words, turning his face away even more as he stared at the faucet beside him, a single drop falling into the sink with a dull _thud_ on the metal below as if on cue.

“You know, I didn’t mean for you to _leave_.” he rumbled in a low voice.

Connor blinked at him, trying to figure out what exactly he meant by that. The Deviant stepped closer slowly, as if not to spook a frightened animal. He stopped when he saw Hank’s shoulders go tense again, and instead leaned against the counter similar to the other man just a few feet away. He crossed his arms as he spoke up again.

“You mean when you told me to ‘get out’? I assumed as much, and I didn’t leave right away – not before sunrise.”

Hank let the words spin around his head, looking up at the Android in front of him for what seemed to be the first time that day.

“Why’d you leave then?”

Now it was Connor’s turn to avert his eyes, preparing himself for the possible outlash. The older man simply waited for the Android to continue, taking another slow sip of his coffee in the meantime.

“I had an appointment. Two, to be precise. Fortunately, I had gotten an appointment for both on the same day. Unfortunately… the timing hadn’t been the best.” He looked back at Hank, trying to convene the necessity of his actions through his voice. “I wanted to make sure that what we are experiencing is no danger to any of us. So I went to see Dr. Howard and after that, I went to see a woman from the development and research team from AC Tech, the manufacturer of the implant.”

Hank didn’t really react in anyway. He simply took another sip of his coffee as he silently listened. So Connor went on after taking a slow breath.

“I reported recent issues about our connection and the anomalies-”

“The dream stuff.” Hank commented in a gruff tone.

“Yes. Me being able to access and be part of your dreams.” Connor nodded. “But also the general capability of me being able to perceive the more… imaginative part of your mind.”

Hank only snorted at that.

“So you told them about last night.” The older man presumed, but without reproach.

“No.” Connor answered honestly. “I’ve told them about earlier dreams but not about this. I gave them all the data I had collected over the past two days for evaluation and my experiences and restrictions, but without any concrete information about you or specific content. However, we are advised to treat our connection carefully until the issue is resolved and a patch is released. It may take several months however, and they apologized for the inconvenience. Dr. Howard as well as AC Tech want to keep in contact and may call if they need more information or have any more questions.”

Connor kept his voice neutral and open during the last part. He couldn’t deny that he was already missing their link, the constant exchange of their emotions, even after only being disconnected for a few hours. If Hank even considered engaging in a connection ever again, after everything that had happened.

Hank huffed and shook his head, taking a big gulp from his coffee before putting it beside him onto the counter plate, watching the steam emerge from the half empty cup.

“You know…” Hank started but looked like he was searching for words. He shook his head in thought and after a moment took a deep breath as if preparing himself for something before he lifted his head and turned his gaze back to the Android.

“I am sorry, Connor.” he said defeated and somewhat out of the blue for the Deviant since the context didn’t really fit. Connor tilted his head in confusion when Hank continued.

“You’ve probably already _rationalized_ my behavior or whatever, but I’m _sorry_. And you should be… I don’t know.” he shook his head again and looked back down to his coffee as if the hot liquid could tell him how to proceed.

“Are you… talking about last night?” Connor asked, unsure.

“Yes, of-fucking-course I am talking about last night...!” Hank groused as he looked back up, but the rising anger didn’t appear to be directed at him. “I fucked up. I mean – we both did, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Damnit- your look when I…” Hank mumbled, brushing his hair back with a hand. “I was just-... I was just so _angry_ . Not at _you_ but simply that whole fucking situation and that _case_ and then that goddamn... that goddamn dream- and then I overreacted and lashed out and you don’t bloody deserve being bombarded with my shit!”

So Hank was being evasive because he was … angry about his own behavior towards him? That was just ridiculous.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Hank… I understand. I know that cases involving children are especially hard and emotionally taxing for you. It’s perfectly understandable that the nature of the case has triggered memories that might have produced your nightmare as a result.”

And he really did understand, on a level. He had had the whole night to roll the events through his mind and analyze them. To pull them apart, second by second. There was no reason for Connor to be hurt by Hank’s actions, since they could all be explained by the older man’s emotional drain and lasting depression. His system might remind him that it had still hurt, being yelled at and cast out the bedroom, not able to fix the situation other than removing himself from Hank’s sight. He wouldn’t admit that though since he didn’t want Hank to feel even worse.

Hank’s eyes found the Deviant’s again, more awake now than the past thirty or so minutes since Connor has gotten there.

“No, you _don’t_ understand. And _that’s_ what I meant by you trying to rationalize this.” He scowled while pointing his finger at Connor. “There might have been a trigger, but it doesn’t fucking justify treating you like shit! You just don’t do that to your partner! And I _know_ you aren’t as unfazed by that as you try to make it look!”

Connor got surprised again and again by how well Hank was able to read him by now, even though he thought he had his posture and facial expression perfectly adjusted. The man managed to see straight through his mask.

“And I fucking barked at you even though you were just worried….” Hank sighed, the anger leaving him in a rush, shoulders drooping as the tension left them altogether. “You shouldn’t have spied on my dreams, yes. You should have told me earlier. But… fuck.”

Hank wiped his hands over his face, looking a thousand times more tired than before. Sad, blue eyes blinked at him.

“I’ve been better....” he said quietly “I’ve been so much better, y’know? I haven’t thought about ending myself in like… months or so.”

Connor had assumed as much. They hadn’t had any in-depth talks about Hank’s depression or their current state, but the Deviant had kept an eye out for any signs of a drop, to catch him should he fall.

“I know.” Connor said just as hushed, standing up straight from where he was leaning against the counter and slowly stepping forward to diminish the remaining space between them. “I may have overreacted myself. And I am sorry for that… there may have been more... _elegant_ options to react rather than jumping you right after waking. You may say it was on _impulse_.”

Hand didn’t retract or squirm away when Connor came to a stop right in front of him, with them standing toe to toe, and only shook his head slightly.

“Do you have any idea what impact you have on my life? From that day where you had just.. _waltzed_ into that bar with your mission bullshit and dragged me along through the rest…”

Now that Connor was positive that Hank wasn’t mad at him in particular but the general situation, he felt confident in seeking out physical contact again. And Connor also _really_ felt kind of deprived from some form of touch, an assurance that everything was at least partly alright. He sneaked one hand around Hank’s crossed arms, tugging softly until the man released them and could capture one hand in his own, the warm skin feeling _divine_ against his own.

“You’ve been _fixing_ me since day one, you know that?” Hank went on, his voice soft as if revealing a secret. “And I just don’t want to mess this up between us because- because it’s something I finally _care_ about again. It’s been so long since I stood up in the morning and didn’t wish it was evening again so I could simply go back to sleep and forget the rest. Since I don’t feel completely _drained_ all the time...”

Connor was _thrilled_ to hear that. From what he had gathered, Hank had already been through half the stages of grief when they’d met for the first time at that one bar. Of course it’s different from person to person, the healing process’ varying vastly and so are methods that might help, however there’s still a general pattern. First there’s shock, numbness and possible denial after a loved one has died, followed by emotional outbursts in the form of anger or fear. Disorganization follows quickly after, causing difficulties maintaining their job or close relationships. The Deviant guessed that Captain Fowler was the reason that Hank had kept his position as Lieutenant even after having refused multiple cases or having been late for work on a regular basis.

If another partner was involved, they might be able to give mutual support, or it may end in a break up. Connor didn’t know what the case with Hank was, he’d never actually mentioned a wife or Cole’s mother in general.

All that may lead to a crushing feeling of loneliness and guilt that causes the person concerned to distance themselves from their social environment, sometimes ending in isolation and ultimately transforming into depression. A tenacious state that is hard to overcome, but Hank had done _so well_ the past few months. The fact that he wasn’t blackout drunk right then was only proof of that. He wished he could show Hank how _proud_ he was through their link. Connor may have been the support the other man had lacked, but Hank has still done all the work.

He squeezed the other man’s hand affectionately and a soft smile played on his lips when his partner squeezed back. They were standing so close that their breaths mingled between them, hot puffs against his lips.

“You didn’t ‘mess this up’.” Connor assured him. “And I forgive you, if you forgive me for overstepping my boundaries.”

“It’s not-... it’s not ‘overstepping’ anything.” Hank huffed. “I know you just can’t hold in your curiosity for long, just...next time, tell me if something’s up, alright? Especially if it involves anything with this thing.” Hank tipped against his temple with his finger where the implant was located. “Curiosity killed the cat and all that...”

“But doesn’t satisfaction bring it back?” Connor smiled.

“Now you’re just being a smartass again.” Hank groused but his eyes twinkled.

Connor grinned at his partner, a weight lifting within him he hadn’t even noticed being there before.

“I promise I will let you know. So, does that mean we’re good?”

Hank took a second to answer, taking a deep breath, before one corner of his mouth lifted the tiniest bit even if the tired look didn’t disappear.

“Yeah. We’re good. And you’re sure you’re … alright?” Hank inquired, a worried frown now in place, but Connor quickly washed it away with another grin.

“Yes. I am.”

Not able to hold back any longer, Connor quickly leaned forward and pressed their lips together. He savored the contact, the soft press of warm lips against his own. The thick hairs of Hank’s beard tickling his jaw. He lifted both his hands to brush them through the man’s long, silvery strands and getting a low rumble, almost like a purr, in return. They moved their mouths lazily with no rush, as if to re-familiarize themselves again. Strong hands were placed on his hips and with a small tug and he let himself sag against the slightly larger frame. They kept their pace slow, almost chaste, simply enjoying being close again. They broke apart when Hank’s fingers found one of the many zippers on his jeans – the one on the side of his hip, following down the side of his thigh. They both looked down and watched Hank tug curiously on it.

“So are those your new fiddle-jeans?” Hank joked as he un- and re-zipped it repeatedly. Connor only frowned at it irritated.

“No. It’s Markus’ and I will return it as soon as possible. I can’t get used to it as everything _jiggles_ with each step I take. It’s distracting.”

“What? And your coin isn’t? It’s making just as much noise!”

“Maybe, but it’s _controlled_. With this I can’t stop it whenever I want unless I use tape or something similar. And that’s simply inconvenient.”

“And would probably look ridiculous.” Hank smirked, but Connor noticed some of the tension has seeped back. His smile was strained, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked _nervous_.

“What is it…?” Connor blinked at him, unsure to what may have caused it.

Hank gaze turned back to the zipper where he was still tugging on the puller, using it as his own stress-relieve. With a final sigh he pulled the zipper up before pushing the Android aside.

“Give me a second. Wait here.”

And with that, he left the kitchen and disappeared down the hall. Peeking around the corner, Connor saw him walk into the bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. The Deviant wondered what Hank was up to, but there was no way in knowing unless he waited. And so he did just that. Luckily his curiosity was sated just a minute later when Hank shuffled back out with nothing but a tablet in hand. Instead of heading back to the kitchen though, the older man headed for the old couch, beckoning Connor with a nod. Connor’s interest was piqued, and he followed quickly, taking seat beside the other man as he scanned the device in his hands. It was an older model, nothing from this decade and with a black protective hull around it. The screen was also black but came to life shortly after Hank had held down the power button for a second or two.

“I guess you haven't really gotten the best glimpse of him… might wanna change that. There are good things too, not only the bad memories…” Hank explained vaguely as he grumbled at the tablet for taking so long to boot.

“You mean Cole…?” Connor asked carefully, watching the man beside him, their shoulders brushing slightly each time they moved.

“Yeah…” Hank nodded and briefly glanced at the Android. “Sophy was so kind to give me this thing. She’s kept the originals.”

Any other time it would be aggravating to have to ask for clarification after almost each sentence, but he guessed that whatever Hank wanted to show him was important to him.

“Who’s Sophy?”

“My wife. … Ex-wife, I guess. Sophia. Don’t know if I ever got a copy of those divorce papers…” he mumbled the last bit under his breath.

With a sound the tablet finally showed the home screen, turning their attention back to the task at hand. It didn’t look like a regular used device – the background was generic, had probably never been changed, and the screen was littered with all the standard, pre-installed apps. Hank squinted at the little icons, searching for something specific and his lips moved slightly as he silently read the names of the apps. When he found what he was looking for, he tipped on it with too much force, but it did the trick. The gallery of the tablet opened, revealing a collection of photos, displayed as tiny thumbnails. Hank tipped on the very first.

It wasn’t a digital picture, but rather a re-capture of an already taken and printed-out photo. Connor could see the corner of another photo at the bottom right-hand corner of the screen and the background was cream colored, rough paper. He guessed they were originally stored in some sort of scrapbook. The photo looked like it was made in a hospital; a brunette woman lying in a hospital bed with what looked like a newborn in her arms, wrapped in all sorts of blankets. She smiled brightly at the camera, but there was also exhaustion evident in her features. Just beside her beside the bed stood Hank, looking better than ever and with a similar expression on his face, his gaze fixed onto the small bundle.

“Right… the 23rd of September. He’s kept us up for most the night because _of course_ he decided that the perfect time to come out was in the wee hours of the morning.” Hank huffed with a gentle smile, his eyes tracing the photograph.

He put the tablet in between them so they could see, both hunched over the bright screen.

“You look happy. You both do.” Connor commented.

“You bet. Best day of my fucking life, I can tell ya…” Hank grinned at him, a twist of genuine delight merged with the underlying sorrow.

Hank swiped to the left, revealing a series of baby shots in various poses and locations; sometimes alone, other times with either parent, together, or people Connor didn’t recognize. There were rarely any photos were Cole didn’t laugh or at least smile.

“I almost forgot how many we took…” Hank mumbled as he kept on swiping.

There were about a dozen more pictures with Cole being the sole center, presumably still during the first year of birth. There was nothing much to look at other than a happy, well-cared and loved baby. After that the timestamps seemed to be spread further, one picture every few weeks or so, deduced from the small growth spurts between each shot, transforming the newborn to a toddler.

“He was so easy to care for… I mean he still had had his temper tantrums which Sophy would’ve teased he got from me, but other than that…” Hank told the Android wistfully, voice sounding more and more strained with each word.

The man swiped on. More and more of the surroundings became visible on the following shots when Cole wasn’t making up most of the picture anymore. There was one with Hank’s former wife sitting on a blanket, grinning joyfully as she was holding up the young toddler by his hands who looked like he was trying his first steps even though he must have been way too young for that phase. Hank wasn’t in the picture, so Connor assumed he must’ve been the one taking it. They were in what looked like the backyard of a house with a white, wooden picket fence in the background; the sun hanging low in the sky, tinting everything in an orange-red spectrum. The next picture was taken at the same time but from a different angle, showing Sophia and Cole in front of a white painted, two-story house with a rather large porch. For human standards this was probably perceived as a beautiful shot, and Connor admired the carefree expression Hank’s family wore.

“Loved that day... “ Hank mumbled as he took in the photo. “Cole must’ve been around two then… Sophy just couldn’t wait until Cole was old enough to take his first steps.” He huffed a small laugh, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When he swiped on, Connor could see how Cole grew up through each new photo that came. There were shots of his birthday, with colorful, cone-shaped hats and bright candles – scenes where they were in amusement parks or what looked like on vacations in cottages or on the beach, or simply ones where they were at home, lounging on the family couch. Most were filled with joy – and even those who weren’t came from moments of surprise or similar situations, like when a younger, smaller Sumo all but ravished Cole’s meal over dinner.

Hank left some shots uncommented; with others he filled him in, gave him additional information. Small anecdotes or elaborated descriptions of the displayed situation. Connor listened attentively, sucking up each tidbit like a sponge.

They were nearing the end of the gallery when Hank stopped as Cole’s small, slender form was almost crushed by an oversized backpack he wore on his back, grinning from ear to ear at the person holding the camera. They were standing in a kitchen with Sophy being in the middle of adjusting the light jacket the boy was wearing. The Deviant concluded that Cole was just getting ready for school.

Another swipe revealed that the final item in the gallery was actually a video, taken on the very same day when Cole was getting ready for school. With a shaky hand, Hank tipped onto the slightly transparent play button on the center of the screen and soon enough they could hear the cheery voice of the young boy as he answered Hank’s question.

_“Are you excited on your first day of school?”_

_“Yeah!”_

_“That’s the spirit!”_

The camera shook a bit as Hank – obviously holding the camera – gave Cole a high five and ruffled through the short, blonde hair afterwards.

_“Any last words before we go?”_

_“No! Let’s go! I wanna go now!”_

Hank barked out a laugh as he followed Cole with the camera when the boy stumbled out the kitchen and out the front door.

_“Fucking hell, that boy’s got so much energy.”_

_“I bet he’ll be a real trouble maker. Not a lot from the man of law he’s supposed to become.”_

The view blurred when the camera turned up and towards Sophia just as she was grabbing the keys from the countertop, a playful smirk on her lips as she looked over the camera’s view at the one holding it.

_“Are you doubting my method of education, Ms. Anderson?”_

_“Me? Never!”_ She answered coyly, the smirk evolving into a bright grin.

 _“Mooom! Daaad! Get going! We’re going to be late!”_ Cole shouted impatiently from somewhere further away, causing his parent to burst out laughing.

_“Alright, we better get going before he’ll try and drive there himself.”_

_“And wouldn’t that be a sight.”_ Hank said amused, turning the camera to the floor and after a bit of rustling, the video stopped.

The sob coming from the man beside him caught Connor by surprise, and when he looked up, Hank had his head turned away. One of his hands had left the tablet to press against his mouth as a fist, trying to keep more sounds from escaping, however futile. His shoulders were shaking softly, and it took the Deviant maybe a second too long to realize that the other man was crying. He carefully lifted a hand and placed it on Hank’s shoulder, but that only seemed to break the dam. Hank’s shoulders began to shake violently, and the sobs grew louder in volume and more frequent.

“What is it, Hank…?”

The tablet hit the table’s top with a loud clatter before the other man buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

“I can’t-...” Hank sniffed and gasped for air before he began anew. “I can’t believe my boy has been _dead_ for almost _four years_.”

Connor didn’t know how to reply to that. He slid his hand which was still resting on Hank’s shoulder further over his back, encircling him with his arm and pulling him closer. He hoped that physical comfort was the right thing to do here, but it was the only thing the Deviant could think of. To his relief, Hank leaned into him, leaning his head against his shoulder and digging a hand in the front of his shirt at the same time. The Deviant used his free hand to slowly skim his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp as Hank continued to gasp and cry wet spots into his shirt, completely distraught.

It took him a few minutes to calm down again, with Connor trying to sooth him with gently touches. The tremble of his body slowly but surely subsided and the vice grip on the Deviant’s shirt was released.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” The Deviant whispered into his ear, still stroking the silvery strands back in a slow, repeating rhythm.

Hank sniffed and leaned back, shaking his head slowly – his eyes briefly darting to Connor  – before pulling a box of tissues from under the coffee table. He wiped away the wet trails and cleaned his nose with several of the soft, white fabrics, littering the table’s surface with them.

“You know-” he began, his voice cracking and raw with emotion, staring down onto the tablet. “You know, he absolutely _hated_ that day. He’d been all mopey when I got to pick him up after school and he’d declared that he’d rather get grounded for life rather than having to go there the next morning. It had been _hilarious_!” Hank breathed out with a fondly, accompanied by a few new, salty tears. “He could get quite melodramatic sometimes, even with his age… Fuck, I miss him so goddamn much…” Blue, sad eyes turned to the Deviant. “You can’t imagine how much I miss him....”

“No, I can’t…” Connor answered honestly, sneaking one hand into the slightly larger one of Hank. “I have never had a son, nor do I think that I would be great with children anyway.” He gave his partner a soft smile, hopeful to lighten the mood a bit. “But what you’ve been going through has told me enough. Thank you for showing me this.”

There’s nothing to alleviate the emotional pain the other man obviously suffers from when he is reminded of his son or his death, but Connor will stay with him until it is nothing more than a dull throb in the back of his mind and the most prominent memories being of a worthwhile part of his life.

“Don’t be stupid, I should be thanking you for enduring my bullshit...” Hank grumbled but squeezed the Deviant’s hand nonetheless before lifting their hands and pressing a chaste kiss to the Android’s knuckles. “I love you, you know that?”

Blue eyes looked at him, honest and open, making his wires thrum with delight.

“I know. And I love you, Hank. All of it.”

Mimicking the other man’s actions, he also pressed his lips to the rough skin of Hank’s knuckles, delighted to see that it elicited a rough chuckle from his partner. But something got him curious.

“What about Sophia?”

Hank blinked at Connor, obviously caught off guard by the name of his ex-wife.

“What about her?”

“Where is she now? Are you still in contact with her?”

It hadn’t sounded like Hank was being on bad terms with her, but also hadn’t elaborated about her whereabouts or how they indefinitely broke up.

“No…” Hank started slowly, thoughtfully. “Uh – We hadn’t really kept in contact. Well, not anymore. She’d call me here and then after I had moved out, but it had died down quickly. I haven’t been that… _social_ back then. ‘Just wanted to be left alone.” He said while his eyes drifted through the room. “One day I’d just gotten some divorce papers in the mail and there’s that. I signed it, send it back to the address, never heard from her again.” His words made it sound like he didn’t care, but Connor could pick up the force behind his nonchalant tone and the grimace he wanted to hide by turning his face away again. The Deviant wondered why.

“Would you… want to get in touch again? Now that things have cleared up a bit?”

Connor was honestly curious. If Hank was willing to talk to his wife again – assuming that Sophia was open for it even after Hank had rejected her advances – it might help in his healing process. Sharing his experiences with someone who has gone through the same pain. Or it may just rip open wounds that just have started to heal.

Hank was silent for a moment, staring down his shirt as he leaned back further into the couch, fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

“No…” he mumbled quietly, telling Connor that he was lying. He didn’t understand. They had just gone through a majority of Hank’s past the man had only ever sporadically talked about – why was he lying about wanting to get in touch with his wife again?

“Do you still love her?” Connor blurted out, surprising himself with that question, but it had been the first thing that came to his mind. Now that he thought about it, it may not be so devious.

Hank’s body went rigid for a split of second, tense from shoulder to toe, before he leaned forward with a sigh.

“It’s not that _easy_ , Connor.” he grumbled defeated, head hanging between his shoulders.

“What’s not easy?” Connor inquired innocently, tilting his head in confusion. There should have been only two options to his yes-or-no question.

Hank brushed his hair back with one hand as he looked up to the Deviant still perched beside him, staring at him with his trademark _are-you-serious-right-now_ look. And, to be frank, he was.

“Alright. Listen…” Hank started slowly, and Connor clung to every word. “You don’t just stop… loving someone. I wouldn’t be in this mess if I just… stopped loving my son now that he’s dead, alright?”

Connor nodded slowly, but not quite getting what it had to do with his ex-wife. She hadn’t died, right? However, he let Hank continue, hoping that the man would guide him to an answer.

“The circumstances were just… difficult.” He sighed. “We had tried to make it work, to support each other, but we both were looking for someone to blame. And after we went over the driver, to the weather, to the doc… at last, we started blaming each other. So, in a grand moment of being the adults we were supposed to be, we sat down, had a talk, and decided that it would be best to part ways. So I left.”

“But you have never stopped loving her.” Connor concluded.

His partner looked at him with big eyes filled with sadness and shook his head.

“No. Not really. However-” he started as he leaned up, looking Connor in the eye as he put his hand on top of the Deviant’s. “It’s different now.”

“Different how?”

“I-… There’s no way we’re getting back together or something like that, alright? It’s not like we’re even friends anymore. But... she will always be special.” He followed hesitantly, squinting at Connor, assessing his reaction. “‘You alright with that…?”

Connor quirked a brow, not knowing how Hank was expecting him to react, so he simply nodded in understanding. “Of course. Why would I not be? I am glad that not everything has been wrapped in sorrow as you are still talking about her fondly.”

Hank remained silent, watching the Deviant, his blue orbs flickering over the Android’s face. Connor still didn’t know what he was looking for, but Hank simply sighed and shook his head, a fond smile lightening his features.

“I don’t even know where she lives now.” Hank added thoughtfully. “I’ve left her the house – might still be living there, who knows. Another thing I’m quite glad about – not that I’d left it to her, but that it had been _easy_. Separating, I mean. No drama. No screaming. Just… mutual understanding. I had simply packed my few things and went out the door... only took some cash from our shared bank account so I could buy myself a place to stay.” He spread his arms, pointing to the house in general. “First thing I had found that was somewhat affordable with what I had. I didn’t really care about the interior, nor a garage or garden. But I got lucky with that, I guess. It was supposed to be a temporary solution until I find the energy to look for something a bit... nicer.”

Connor’s brows rose, almost flirting with his hairline, as he saw the mild disdain on his partners face.

“You don’t like it here?”

“Hell no. Well, I mean, I got used to it but c’mon. It’s nothing you want to stay in _forever_ , right? But, you know, temporary has been close to four years now, so there’s that.” Hank shrugged as if he hadn’t just tugged the rug from right under Connor’s feet.

Granted, it was still quite difficult for the Deviant to grab some human concepts. Contrary to Markus’ believe and what they had fought for, the part Connor has been interested in the most was having his own voice, being his own _person_ . Back then he hadn’t known what it could mean to have a home or why it should matter and still had no real sense of possession. He had a few belongings, his clothes a prime example, however they were a necessity as Hank had insisted that he couldn’t run around in his suits all day and night. The Deviant hadn’t seen the problem, but had relented nonetheless. Other than that, there was nothing else he would call his and _his alone_. It was either Hank’s or shared and he had no need to change that just yet.

The idea of having a _home_ had somehow resonated with something inside him, but hadn’t quite known how to acquire one. The prospect of having a place where he _belonged_ , a place he was welcome whenever _he_ wanted. The greatest gift, Connor thought, had been the single key to Hank’s place the older man had given him a few months back. It had been that moment where Connor had thought he had finally accomplished this part of his mission. Knowing that Hank didn’t share this feeling, that this place had always only been a temporary stop, threw him right off the tracks.

“This is not your home?” The Deviant asked for a lack of words, hoping that Hank would ease his state of uncertainty.

Hanks eyes were drawn to the wild flicker of Connor’s yellow LED as the Deviant tried to process the information, and the older man must’ve noticed his struggle. He nibbled on his lower lip as he searched for the right words.

“It’s… maybe kinda a philosophical question. _Technically_ it is, because I live here and it’s where my mail gets delivered to, but it doesn’t _feel_ like home. Not really. Because it always reminds me of _why_ I’m here in the first place. And it really isn’t that nice of a place, don’t you think?”

Connor knew that Hank meant it rhetorically, but he still let his gaze drift through the dimly lit room. His eyes skimmed over the back of the few books and DVD’s that sat on a shelve opposite of them with a thin layer of dust that never disappeared completely, no matter how often Connor cleaned the place. There was an old water stain on the ceiling in one corner of the room and a crack in the wall just below it. He let his eyes follow the dark mark that spread all the way down to the floor where it continued as a ripple in the dark wooden floor which had lost its shine years ago. It was true that the house was in dear need for some renovations.

But Connor slowly began to understand what Hank meant. What kept his partner from calling this his home was the reminder of Cole’s death tethered to the premises, the reason his old life had fallen apart.

“Do you want to move then?” Connor asked as a conclusion.

“What – now?” Hank asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“We would have to look for something first!”

“Alright, then let’s do that. We can do it online, right?”

Hank stared at him in disbelief, weighing if Connor was serious or not. He was.

“Fuck…” Hank mumbled, visibly contemplating Connor’s offer.

He stared at the tablet still lying on the table in front of him, it being probably one of the only devices able to access the Internet in this household. After another pause, he finally picked it up, tapping it out of standby mode. The thumbnail of the video was the first thing to appear and made the older man halt, tracing the pixels that made up Cole’s beaming face, before pushing the home button and opening the system’s browser.

“Alright, but we’re doing it like this: You pick a house, and we’ll look over the details together. Got it?”

Hank glanced at the Android before tipping in an address of a popular property search website.

“Me?”

“Yes, _you_ . Because this will be as much your home as it will be mine, so of course you get a say in it. And I bet you’ll overthink everything and it will be _hilarious_.” Hank answered with a grin.

“To be fair, I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Connor admitted, eyeing the filter options critically.

“We can just scout through some so you get a feeling for what you like. Oh, and Connor?”

“Yes, Hank?”

The Deviant looked back up to his partner but was quickly distracted by a request on one of his ports. Hank was asking to connect. Connor couldn’t allow it fast enough and as soon as their connection was established, their minds entwined once again, he basked in the feed Hank was giving him. His mind was washed away by pure gratitude, affection and _love_ , so open and raw he couldn’t help himself but throw himself at Hank and crush their lips together.

They would move, but most importantly, they would move on.


	4. Epilogue

Awareness slowly seeped into his mind, waking his sensors, sending electrons zig-zagging through his wires. His body felt heavy, his joints unused. The last speckles of color disappeared before his closed eyes, fading to black where they had been a vibrant mix before, flowing and curling in and around each other. Abstract, with no clear shape or form, an image he could not reproduce even if he wanted to.

When Connor opened his eyes, he was momentarily blinded by the brightness of the room; a stark contrast to the darkness he was wrapped in only moments before. The sun was shining through the large window front on one side of the room, basking everything in warm light. The white ceiling was familiar, and so was the black ceiling fan, whirling lazily in the warm summer heat. He felt the light weight of the blanket halfway draped over his body, covering him to his hips. He concentrated on the soft fabric where he let his fingertips run over the sheets while he tried to collect his thoughts. He felt like he was missing a few hours again, like the time had shifted from the second he had laid down with Hank and had closed his eyes that night to this very moment.

A quick glance confirmed that he was indeed still in their bed, but his partner was missing, Hank’s side of the bed vacated. A quick brush over his usual spot was cold to touch and only confirmed that he must’ve been up for quite some time. Connor hadn’t noticed. He couldn’t recollect what had happened in the past few hours. Only strange images, things he had never seen before but were quickly fading and becoming hard to remember at all.

He sat up and watched his surroundings closely. It didn’t look like he had accidentally slipped into one of Hanks dreams again. It had happened two or three times now when the Deviant hadn’t paid attention and had slipped into the other man’s dreamscape on accident. Of course he had apologized profusely the next morning, but Hank had just waved him off, telling him that it was fine. It wasn’t, obviously, but he had appreciated the other man’s calm. However, there were no signs of him being in the other man’s head this time. The room looked clear, everything was sharp, nothing blurred - which was usually one of the first indicators. The few boxes they hadn’t come around to unpack just yet were still sitting in the corner of the bedroom where they had left them. Nothing of their new home looked any different than how they’d left it and Connor didn’t  _ feel  _ different.

The Deviant prodded his system, sensing Hank nearby, only a few feet away from his general position. The hefty smell of breakfast was thick in the air. He followed it, detangling himself from the blanket and followed the corridor just outside their bedroom towards the large, open kitchen. Hank was standing behind the kitchen island, being in the middle of scooping some sizzling bacon onto a plate, when he noticed Connor.

“Finally woke up, I see.” he greeted him, giving him an appreciate once-over - Connor hadn’t bothered to change out his sleep shirt or even put on some pants - before placing the used pan in the sink to clean later. Connor quickly scanned the room, but he still couldn’t find anything astray.

“Are we dreaming?” he asked as he padded closer on bare feet.

Hank glanced at him but was mostly fixated on fixing his breakfast. “Dreaming? Not that I know of.”

The Deviant sat down on one of the barstools in front of the island, crossing his arms on top of the countertop’s cool surface.

“But I seem to be missing time. And that usually only ever happens when I’m in a dream of yours. But it doesn’t appear to be the case…” the Deviant mused, still utterly confused.

“Maybe  _ you _ are dreaming.” Hank looked a piece of bacon between his fingers before shoving it into his mouth. “Looked like you were asleep when I woke up. Didn’t move an inch, but your eyes did behind your eyelids. ‘Thought it was only a human thing, or that you were maybe doing some sort of weird update or somethin’. You didn’t react when I talked to you, either.” He said with his mouth full.

“I don’t require sleep. I can’t sleep.” Connor responded defensively, even though he had no other explanation at hand.

“Did you check your system?”

“Of course. But I didn’t find anything unusual or out of the ordinary.”

“Well, then maybe it was  _ just a dream _ .” Hank half sing-songed, making Connor think of it as some pop-culture reference he didn’t get as the older man whipped up his plate and strode towards the adjacent living room. Sumo was already in his usual spot, snoring softly in front of the new sofa - a much larger one than the couch at Hank’s old place had been. Connor followed without another though, his mind replaying the last moments from that night and what he remembered from when he ‘woke up’ this morning.

“I think I recall seeing…colors.” he said vaguely, sitting down closely beside Hank on the new piece of furniture.

“Colors?”

“Yes. So many of them but I can’t really describe it. And… sounds. Like  _ buzzing  _ from a bumble-bee passing by. But everything was changing so rapidly that the moment I thought I got a clear picture, everything had changed already.” He looked at Hank who looked just as puzzled as he felt.

“Well, maybe that’s just how androids dream.” he shrugged, placing a hand on his thigh and caressing his skin.

“Androids are not supposed to dream.”

“Androids were not supposed to become sentient. But here we are.” Hank said with a smirk, his first meal of the day temporarily forgotten. “But if you are worried, you should maybe ask your friend Markus, right? Or…”

“Or…?” Connor blinked at him.

“Or you could try again tonight. I can tell you that I was wide awake when you were still slumbering earlier. Maybe next time you’ll dream of something with more…  _ conceivable _ .”

Could it be possible? He watched the other man grab the remote and turn on the TV before Hank finally dug into his food. The Deviant has adopted many things simply from their connection, has acquired a deeper understanding of the different nuances between android and human. Maybe it was just another aspect of being deviant, of becoming your own person.

The sound from the TV became distant noise when he closed his eyes and watched the ghost of purple and blue mix together behind his closed eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeyyy I finally did it!   
> I hope it was just as interesting for you reading as it was for me writing it!
> 
> However the series is not done yet, there's still so much more to discover!!!!!
> 
> Comments are much appreciated and fuel for my motivation! Thanks for joining me on this trip!


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